The Lightning Bud
by ThisIsTrueImmortality
Summary: "Prince Ozai," she muttered, her voice betraying her tears. Ozai waved her to a sitting position. "It's just the garden, you know," he said. "Not the throne room. You don't have to bow." "Yes, I do," answered Ursa, forgetting herself. A Prequel era story
1. The Lightning Flower

**Author's Note: My first ever _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ fanfic! :D I have become unrecognizable in my sheer geekiness. Between anime and microbiology, I have changed entirely from the person I once was. XD**

**I don't know why, but the fancy struck me to write an Ursa/Ozai fanfic as my beginning A:TLA fic. They're such a deep subject and an enthralling pairing. Really. They keep the mystery alive in Avatar. I thought this little one-shot turned out quite well, even if it leaves something to be desired. I might consider continuing this story as a series of oneshots every month or so, if the mood strikes me. :)**

**Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!**

**Song: **

**Song of the Heart by Brian Crain -** .com/watch?v=15Ed12h2uXU

The Lightning Bud

Calm.

Serenity.

Balance.

_Calm. Serenity. Balance_.

Ursa gritted her teeth and sighed in defeat, letting her fingers crawl up into her palms. There would be no meditation for her today. Shoulders slumping, she felt hot tears build up under her eyelids. Refusing to wipe them away, she let her gaze drift over the man-made lake on her father's estate. Unwanted, the tears made their insistent way down her cheeks.

The afternoon had been torture. First, her mother had made her sit through an insufferably long formal tea ceremony full of stuffy old men and women and their arrogant children. Those same children, all around Ursa's age and economic status, had done their best to liven up their tea experience by bullying the hosts' daughter.

Men Ti, cousin of General Raoi, had purposefully spilled hot tea across Ursa's hand. Ursa had been forced not to cry out at the pain; she had simply wiped the scalding beverage off with a hand towel and smiled at Men Ti to show her it hadn't hurt.

Later on Muban, the son of a governor of a prominent Earth Kingdom town, had run his hand over Ursa's thigh under the table in an attempt to startle her into humiliation. Ursa had calmly pinched between his thumb and pointer with her thin fingers as hard as she could. He hadn't touched her again, choosing to keep his hands to himself rather than have two matching red marks between his fingers.

Once the tea ceremony had endeed, Ursa had thought things would improve. She couldn't have been more wrong. Not only did the other children hassle her, they insulted her while they did it. In retaliation for not crying out over the tea, Men Ti seized a handful of Ursa's hair and pulled out as many of the fine brown strands as possible. When Ursa staggered away from her in pain, Muban had given her a shove right into the flower beds outside her mother's room. Of course, that was the one spot where her mother cultivated roses.

The other children had laughed as Ursa leapt out of the rosebushes, shaking her robes to rid them of thorns. Jin, normally a nice enough boy, was emboldened to call out an unkind nickname. "Ursa the Cursed! Of course she'd fall in the rosebushes!"

"Ursa the Cursed!" This name had been quite popular with the other noble children, and they had chanted it at Ursa all afternoon. Ursa had done her best to ignore it-responding to name-calling only encouraged bullies-but she couldn't pretend it didn't hurt her feelings. What had she done to make those children dislike her? They had never treated her well, even when they were toddlers. Now here they were, teenagers, and they were still calling her names and pulling her hair.

Well, they all teased her with the exception of one boy. But he never did much of anything, name-calling or otherwise. He mostly stood watching the other children, his arms folded and his brow furrowed. Ursa felt like he might not count.

Ursa blinked, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. She bowed her head and held back a sniffle. She _wasn't _cursed. She _wouldn't_ grow up to be unhappy and childless, as Men Ti was fond of saying. She would marry an honorable man, maybe a soldier, and they would have lovely children together who could firebend better than anyone else. Her mother and father would be proud of her, Ursa thought, as she lifted her chin to the sunset. She was sure of it.

Then her shoulders sagged. Who knew, though? Maybe she_ would _grow up to be old and lonely, with no husband and no children. Maybe she _would _be a burden on her family. Maybe she _was _ugly and masculine, like Men Ti and Lonu said. Maybe she was cursed.

A tiny sob escaped her throat as Ursa watched some ripples on the lake, and as she gave in to the pain, she felt a presence approach her from behind. She turned so that her face was hidden from the approaching person. No one must see her tears; it was shameful to be caught weeping.

The boy say down beside her, crossing his legs in a meditation pose. He wore the same expression he always had at formal occasions: a distant, sober look that made Ursa think he would rather be anywhere but there. She had heard he was a great firebender, strong and passionate in a fight. Personally, she wished he would translate some of that fire to his life outside the sparring ring.

But it didn't matter what she thought, because this boy would take no advice from a humble subject. With this thought, Ursa remembered her manners and bowed to the boy. "Prince Ozai," she muttered, her voice betraying her tears.

Ozai waved her to a sitting position. "It's just the garden, you know," he said. "Not the throne room. You don't have to bow."

"Yes, I do," answered Ursa, forgetting herself.

Ozai looked like he might roll his eyes but refrained. "Whatever you say, Lady Ursa."

"I'm sorry," whispered Ursa, and went back to watching the water. Her eyes and cheeks were itching from dried salt, but she refused to wipe at them. Not with the prince beside her.

A moment passed in silence, and then Ursa felt a strange tickle at her hand. She nearly pulled it back out of reflex, but when her fingers brushed something soft, she hesitated. There, resting next to her left hand, was a beautiful white lightning flower. It had been picked off one of the bushes in the garden, of course, but it made Ursa's breath catch nonetheless. She touched the delicate petals, bright white on the edges and icy blue in the middle, and brought the flower close to her face. It smelled like fresh rain, another reason for its name. It was one of her favorite blossoms.

As she glanced shyly up from the flower, she caught a hint of gold and black as the prince stood and walked away. Her tears dried and her heart inexplicably warmed, she watched him until he vanished through an archway in the garden wall.

In that moment, Ursa felt as cursed as a free sparrowjay.


	2. The Golden Fan

**Author's Note: Well, after a while, it seems I have returned to _The Lightning Bud_ with another chapter of Pre-Urzai goodness! XD**

**Just as a stall to possible questions, I want to clarify Ursa's definition of self-defense. Since we all know how lethal Fire Nation women can be when highly trained, it was quite clear to me that, because of their ongoing state of war, the Fire Nation would be sure to educate almost every noble in the art of defense. Ursa would have been given training that would be considered substantial to an Earth Kingdom girl...but very basic to a Fire Nation girl. Hence, her quick reflexes and grasp of body mechanics is not nearly as extensive as Iroh's or Ozai's, but more than any girl from another nation might know**

**Song: Lovers in Japan by Coldplay .com/watch?v=zCxsrqfu_4E (it may seem a bit cheerful, but I thought of it more for the end of the chapter; it's a foreshadowing song, perhaps)**

"Come on, say it!"

"No!"

"_Say_ _it_, Ozai!"

"No," Ozai gasped, his fingers locked onto his older brother's arm, which was currently blocking air to his windpipe.

Iroh laughed and squeezed his arm muscles; Ozai gagged. "Who's the better bender between us, brother?"

"M-me!"

"Wrong answer!" cried Prince Iroh joyfully, and with a quick bend at the knees, he flipped Ozai over, sending the boy's body into the sand of the training ring. "Sometimes you're a little slow, you know that?" he chuckled, dusting off his hands in a showy manner.

From his position on the ground, Ozai glared at Iroh, massaging his neck. "I hate you."

In response Iroh dropped into a fighting stance. "Prove it, baby brother."

Ozai rose to the challenge, literally. From where she sat on the palace steps, Ursa could see the younger prince's feet leave the ground as he executed an aerial kick, just missing his brother's face. "Nice try!" said Iroh, dancing backward under his brother's furious assault. "But you need to see your target, not just my face! You need to focus on where to strike!" Ozai kept pressing forward, his feet heardly touching the ground as he attacked.

Ursa had watched the two princes spar several times in recent years; it happened to be a favorite pastime of the other nobles' daughters, and she usually got dragged into it. There were six or seven girls surrounding her now, all fanning themselves in the summer heat and tittering excitedly at the battle unfolding before them. Ursa herself was interested in the fighting arts, especially bending; she only knew basic self-defense, so both seemed a mystery to her. She watched the princes and their friends skirmish with something like envy in her heart.

Even though she was content to be a lady, she couldn't help but think that boys got to have all the fun.

"Look at how strong they all are," whispered Sai, Ursa's younger cousin. "They've been fighting for at least ten minutes without a break!"

"I think Wu Shen is so cute," said Sai's sister, Imir, her dark eyes on one of the boys nearest to them. "So tall, so pale..." Ursa hid her embarrassment behind her fan as her cousins sighed in unison.

The inevitable question followed. "Who do _you_ like, Ursa?" asked Sai, sliding further down the steps and rearranging her robes to cover her legs.

"No one," answered Ursa, too quickly. She blushed as her cousins raised their eyebrows at her.

"Yeah, right," said Imir. "Come on, Ursa, do tell: who is it? Someone other than Wu Shen, I hope."

"They're all good fighters," Ursa said, evading the question.

"Is it Dao Tai?"

"Oh, no!" Ursa said, before she could stop herself.

"Why not? He's cute!" said Sai, sounding surprised at Ursa' reaction.

"He's so..." Ursa waved her fan. "So...brawny."

"And?"

"He doesn't have strategy."

"So?"

"So he can't be very smart," Ursa whispered in her cousin's ear. "And don't you ever repeat that," she warned, hitting Sai lightly on the leg. She had to keep her the younger girl in line.

"I don't care if he's smart, he has an estate on the mainland and one in the colonies. And look at those muscles!" As if on cue, Dao Tai seized his training partner, lifted him over his head, and slammed him down into the sand. Sai giggled while Ursa laughed at the cloud of dust swirling around the dazed boy.

"Shhh," whispered Imir, "don't look now, but I think the princes are watching us." As one, the girls raised their fans in front of their faces, peeking through the holes in the fine metal blades to spy on the two brothers.

"We see you looking!" cried Prince Iroh, with a roguish wink. Ozai took this opportunity to tackle him from behind.

"Ooooh," Ursa and her cousins groaned. They winced as Iroh hit the ground with a heavy thud. Pinning his older brother's arms behind his back, Ozai wore a rather wicked grin in victory. For a moment Iroh scowled, then his expression broke into a smile, and soon he was laughing.

"You got me, brother," he said, rolling over as Ozai released him. "But next time I dare you to try that same move from the font."

"Do I _look_ stupid to you?" retorted Ozai.

Iroh spat out a mouthful of sand with a comical grimace. "Water break!" he bellowed, propelling himself to his feet. "In this heat, we really should have taken several by now."

The girls around Ursa fluttered excitedly as the boys in the training ring stopped their sparring. "Quick, quick, let's go!" squealed Sai. She and Imir jumped up and ran to the large pot of water sitting unobtrusively on the dais behind them. A group of other eligible young women had beat them to it and were already ladling the cool spring water into cups.

Ursa rolled her eyes and sat back, creating a personal breeze with her fan. She didn't feel like breaking into a sweat over a silly ritual that only meant something to girls like her cousins. The boys didn't care who gave them a drink; they just needed some water. And unless they happened to be serving someone like Prince Iroh, who was an incurable flirt, any girl who told herself differently was being foolish.

It turned out that the very flirt she was thinking about had decided to pay her a visit on the steps. "Lady Ursa," called Prince Iroh cheerfully, giving her a polite bow before he took a seat, "I do hope you feel all right in this heat?"

Ursa rose and bowed low to her prince. "Thank you for your concern, Prince Iroh. You honor me."

"Any man who is not concerned for a young lady such as yourself does not deserve to be called a man," said Iroh.

"You are too kind, sir," said Ursa, smiling in spite of herself. Prince Iroh was actually at least ten years older than her. He was also married and had a son. This was why Ursa felt no impropriety in their conversation; it was a playful exchange between a man and a girl too young to be considered a woman. Besides, the heir to the Firelord treated every female with gallantry. Ursa was no exception.

Prince Iroh nodded gracefully at her, smiling. "If it's not too much trouble, I would like to request a cup of water for myself and my brother."

Ursa glanced over at the water pot. It had been staked out by six or seven hopeful girls and many swaggering boys. It was no place for royalty. "I would be happy to serve you, Prince Iroh."

"Thank you."

With a small sigh, Ursa rose, tucking her fan into her sleeve. Even that small movement brought a bead of sweat into her eyes. She flicked it away and walked to the water pot, where she had to wrestle two cups from one of the other girls. Once she had poured a suitable amount of water, she gladly left the others to their flirting.

"It is fortunate you didn't put yourself through that ordeal, sir," she told Prince Iroh, handing him his cup with a bow. "For a minute there I thought I might be lost in the fight, but I prevailed."

"You are a hero, Lady Ursa. Perhaps I should arrange for you to receive a medal of valour?"

"Oh, Prince Iroh," Ursa said, with a giggle that sounded suspiciously like Sai's.

Chuckling, Iroh raised his cup to his lips. "Ozai!" he called, waving one hand toward the training ring. "Stop exerting yourself and come get some water!"

As the younger prince approached Ursa took out her fan again, more for something to do than to cool herself off. She lowered her eyes when she felt the prince's gaze on her, but her fan flipped faster of its own accord. With a start she realized he was probably waiting for her to bow. "Forgive me, Prince Ozai," she said hastily, standing to drop into a bow.

"Lady Ursa," said Ozai, "this is a garden, remember?"

"And you are still a prince."

Ursa clapped a hand to her mouth as Iroh let out a surprised laugh. Ozai raised an eyebrow at her. "That was not what I meant to say," Ursa said, blushing crimson.

Iroh slapped his knee, wiping his face on his sleeve as his laughter died. "Oh-oh-that was _perfect_!"

"Perfect," repeated Ozai, still gazing at her. Ursa turned her head in deference-

And saw the man in the shadows of the garden as he drew out short pieces of metal from his coat. As Ursa watched he took careful aim and pulled back his arm. Too late, she saw the pieces of metal form into daggers glinting in the sunlight. They whistled gently as they came, making a straight path toward the closest target: the bare back of the youngest prince.

Ursa's heart dropped into her stomach.

"Ozai!" Iroh had apparently seen the man, too, for he leapt from his place on the steps. Ursa knew he would not be quick enough to stop the assassin's knives.

Before she knew what she was doing, Ursa lunged forward, seizing Prince Ozai's shoulder, swinging herself around to face the assassin. Her hand snapped up of its own accord, and with a blinding glare and a metallic_ thunk_, she felt herself falling backward. Ozai caught her.

"Lady Ursa!" Ozai's expression seemed torn between horror and relief.

"I'm all right," Ursa said breathlessly. As proof, she raised her trembling hand. Her fan was gripped by shaking fingers. Its fine metalwork was dented and twisted by the knife nestled between its blades.

"Seize him!" Iroh's roar rose above the sudden commotion in the garden. Guards wasted no time arresting the man with the knives. "Take him to my father, but interrogate him first," the eldest prince commanded, his eyes hard as he watched the man struggle to escape. "We must find out who sent him."

"There will be no need for that."

Everyone in the garden dropped to their knees. Ursa bowed with her face to the ground as the Firelord approached, the hem of his crimson robe crawling into her vision. After a moment the princes stood, and the rest of the young people followed.

"Release him," Firelord Azulon told the guards. With incredulous frowns, they did so. The man did not wait to hear the Firelord's judgment; he dropped his knives, turned, and ran for the garden wall. Secretly, Ursa could not blame him, but her heart surged with fury even as she acknowledged the thought. Surely, surely this man would not be allowed to run-

Hissing and crackling, blue lightning streaked across the training rings, racing to engulf the assassin. It nipped at his heels, almost teasing him, before traveling over his body. Ursa threw her hands over her eyes just in time. The man's screams still drove themselves into her mind, and she shuddered involuntarily. She felt a hand on her shoulder but did not dare take her hands away from her face to see who was comforting her. The smell of burned flesh made her clap the edge of her palm over her mouth; she didn't want to be sick in front of the princes.

The Firelord was first to break the sickened silence that had fallen over the garden. "That, my sons, is how you deal with traitors." Ursa risked a glance at him from the corner of her eye and saw that his hands were still wreathed in blue energy.

Iroh was next to speak, his voice hesitant and rather hoarse. "I had thought, perhaps, we could have learned his motives for attacking us."

Ozai was staring at the area of the garden where the charred body lay. Ursa, however, pointedly looked away. Her stomach roiled within her. She realized Iroh's hand was still on her shoulder, and with a quick glance at her face he removed it.

The other young nobles in the garden did not dare speak; it looked as though some were afraid to breathe. Ursa turned and handed the ruined fan and dagger to Ozai. "For you, my prince."

"Eh?" Ozai seemed unable to formulate words.

"The daggers were clearly meant for you," Ursa said, just low enough so the Firelord wouldn't hear her. "You may have them, now, and my fan as well. I'm afraid none of them are of any use to me, anymore."

Ozai stared at the tangled mass of metal before looking back at her face. Ursa stared back, expressionless, but she couldn't keep the hysterical giggle from hiccuping out of her. As soon as she made a sound the prince turned, trying his best to choke back his own dazed laughter. "It's a shame," he said choppily. "You seemed fond of that fan."

"If you will permit me to say it, Prince Ozai: as a servant of my country, I am more fond of you than of any ornamental fan." Ursa sighed. "Even if it was my grandmother's."

And, before she could lose her sudden, mad confidence, she bowed deeply and sank back to the water container, joining her open-mouthed cousins amidst a crowd of terrified boys.

There was something about saving a man's life that made it impossible to fear him, Ursa thought, her eyes still fixed on the youngest prince. She knew, somehow, that she would no longer avert her eyes from his gaze again.


	3. The Crushed Blossom

**Author's note: Chapter three, with a little more Ozai character development and a hint of the darkness to come. **

**Song: Be With Me by Keiko Matsuri .com/watch?v=IEHC-9jtFNk&feature=related **

**Enjoy!**

3.

"What do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know," Ursa whispered from her place on the floor, her palms flat on the polished bamboo. "But-please, try."

"Why?" Prince Ozai said, his voice cold. "Am I that unbearable?"

"No!" Ursa raised her face earnestly, then quickly remembered her place as a subservient, a vassal's daughter, and bowed her head. She fought back the tears heating her eyelids and the rebellious thoughts in her heart. "No, Prince Ozai, it has nothing to do with you," she continued, hating the way her voice broke. "It's me. It is my problem."

"My own marriage arrangement has_ nothing to do with me_?" Ozai repeated angrily. "Who do you think you are, Ursa?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Ursa gave a hiccuping sob at her own impertinence. She had probably sealed her own fate with her rash words. "Oh, I don't know what I'm saying!" Because she had nowhere to go, she put her face again to the floor, hiding behind her hair. Her body was shaking so hard she could hear the jade hairpins her mother had given her as a betrothal gift rattling on her scalp. "I am not trying to annul the betrothal," Ursa finally said, gulping. "I'm simply asking for some time."

There was a moment in which she heard Ozai moving across the floor, coming to rest beside her head. She could see one of his fists clench. The young woman thought the prince would take his steel-toed training boot and smash her face in; neither his parents nor hers would find it an unjust punishment for her rudeness. The hairpins nearly vibrated out of her coiled hair.

"I can't even think when you're so nervous," Ozai snapped. "Look at me, and stop acting as if I'm going to electrocute you for speaking." Ursa hesitated. "Look at me!"

Since the time she was old enough to understand the concept, Ursa had been trained to expect an arranged marriage to another Fire Nation noble. Her parents had made no pretense about their daughter's future: she would be cultivated for a proper marriage, accept the man with the best prospects, and seal the contract at the most convenient time. Honor demanded this fate of a non-bending noblewoman. She could be of no use in the war except to marry and have sons and send them off to fight.

Left without a choice, Ursa had resigned herself to this fate. But she had decided to enjoy her life as a free, single teenager for as long as possible, not at all as eager as her cousins to rush into a wealthy marriage. For, once she was committed, there would no turning back. She would live, breathe, grow old, and die beside the man she agreed to marry. Why should she squander the time she had to be her own woman?

That time proved to be incredibly short, for here she was, sixteen years old, facing a proposal of marriage from the Fire Nation royal family itself. After she had saved Prince Ozai from the assassination attempt, Firelord Azulon had kept his eye on Ursa. Her friends had whispered behind their fans that their sovereign was sizing her up for marriage to his youngest son.

Her friends had been right; a year after the failed assassination, a royal request had been sent to her parents, asking to join Ursa to Ozai. And, as her parents had carefully explained to her, they had no right to refuse the Firelord's request. Even though his only child had cried, begged, and pleaded for one more year to be free, her father had given his consent and the betrothal had been written in official records.

Ursa knew she could not escape a marriage to the prince, and she was not entirely sure that was what she wanted. But she did know her one true desire, and that had given her the courage to appear before the prince. And at her timid invitation, Ozai had come in from the training fields to receive her, not even bothering to change out of his dirty clothes.

"Look at me!"

Bleakly, Ursa looked up at her future husband, smudged with dust and ash. He stared back at her in her sable kimono, the black silk like obsidian against the bone white bamboo floor. For the first time, Ursa wondered if he had cursed the end of his own freedom as much as she had. "Yes, Prince Ozai," she said, and lifted her chin. "I suppose we had better get used to looking at one another," she added, not bothering to hide her bitterness about her fate.

"What would you have me do about it?" Ozai asked again, looking away. "Our fate is sealed."

"Prince Ozai, surely you can speak to your father. Perhaps, if he understood how we both felt-"

"My father is not an understanding man," the prince cut in archly. "And he doesn't believe in going back on his word. We're getting married, Lady Ursa, and that's that."

"I already said, I don't want to be released from the obligation," Ursa persisted, knowing this was her last chance. "I'm just asking for some more time, Prince Ozai!"

The prince did not reply right away. He seemed to be deep in thought, his finely-sculpted features dark and taught. Ursa was reminded of the times when they had played together as children; there were more instances to recall than she had thought. Those memories stung at her now, for the children of that era were a haunting contrast to the pair of angry young nobles currently facing off in a palace audience room.

At last, the prince spoke, glancing over at her upturned face. "Give me a reason-a really good reason-to take this matter before my father, and I will do it."

Ursa almost wept; he had relented in the end. She gave him a watery smile, then shook her head. "I can't give any reason that would sound pleasing in the Firelord's ears. I don't have any reason that would make any difference to anyone except me and you, Prince Ozai."

"And what reason is that?" Ozai said.

"I want time," Ursa said plainly. "I want to live with my parents and travel the nation. I don't want to become a wife before my seventeenth birthday. I would like to wait and know the man I must marry before I'm forced to bear his children."

"I'm not sure any more time can buy you those things," Ozai told her bluntly.

"I know. But I would like to be given the opportunity."

"Wouldn't we all," the prince said, with a wry twist to his lips. "But you were right; those reasons do mean a lot to me, as well."

"Yes, my prince," Ursa nodded, ducking her head to hide her blush that had arisen at the mention of their future children. She had known Prince Ozai for a very long time, and she found it strange to think of him as the father of her child, even as it made her heart quicken.

"You've given me your reasons," Ozai said, disturbing her silent thoughts with his proud voice. "And I guess I can't argue with them. I'll think of a reason my father will actually consider and place the concern before him."

"Why not give him your own reasons, Prince Ozai?" Ursa dared to ask.

The prince just laughed. The sound was hollow. "How much time do you request, Lady Ursa?"

"One year."

"Impossible," Ozai said immediately. "My father has never been kept waiting that long."

Ursa bit her lip, discouraged. "Then how long do you suggest?"

Tilting his head, the prince calculated his father's patience. "Eight months, at the longest."

It was not enough, but Ursa did not protest. She was grateful to Ozai for being so lenient, and she did not want to irritate him further. She made a half bow, still kneeling. "If you can postpone the wedding for eight months, I will be in your debt."

"That will give us a year and a few months," Ozai said. "You'll be seventeen and I'll be nineteen. It seems reasonable to me." In one blink, a smile appeared and disappeared on the prince's face. Ursa was not one hundred percent sure she had seen one at all. "And you _will_ be in my debt, Lady Ursa," he continued, striding over to the doorway of the audience room. "But I know of ways you can pay it off."

Ursa rose, too. "I will do anything I can to show my gratitude," she said, with another bow. The audience was over, judging by the prince's demeanor, and so she gathered her robe, ready to leave.

The prince's voice stopped her. "Then meet with me, here, at the palace, every month until we're wed. That way we can satisfy one of your reasons."

Ursa blushed again. "Prince Ozai, I don't think-"

"And another way is to stop being such a pessimist," Ozai said. Then his hand flashed out, the same hand that been clenched throughout the talk, throwing something small and white at her feet. It landed with a soft swish.

Ursa bent and picked up the crumpled bud of a lightning flower. The fragile petals were smashed but not irretrievable, still glowing pure white and blue. She ran a finger over the blossom and looked up, intent on wrestling an explanation for the flower out of her betrothed.

But when she looked up, the prince had gone, leaving nothing but a faint smell of ash in the air.


	4. The Bitter Tea

**Author's Note: This chapter sort of wrote itself; it was rather like a sewage monster that just sprouted up out of nowhere. I thought about posting it as another story entirely, but I thought it could still be considered relevant to Ozai and Ursa's romance. **

**This chapter is told from Iroh's POV, and since I always figured Firelord Azulon was a removed kind of father, I wondered where Iroh got his abundant love for his family. So, just as a single solution to that idea, I've introduced an OC: Ruka, Iroh's wife. **

**I think that's enough of a ramble for now!**

**Song: My Memory, from the Korean drama 'Winter Sonata' .com/watch?v=skGEHuejc-s&feature=related (to me, it just sounds like Iroh)**

4.

Long shadows reached the edge of Iroh's tunic, turning the deep maroon a bright red. He had taken off his armor hours before, when the news had reached him that his wife's condition had worsened. He had dropped every other obligation for the day and had rushed to her chambers, only to be staved off by the palace physicians. Furiously, he had demanded to be shown in, but even a prince's power has limits where physicians are concerned. He was not allowed to invade the invalid's room. She needed rest, they told him, and he could not be allowed to see her weakened state. She had asked to be left alone; she was a proud woman, and she wanted to retain her healthy image to everyone, even her husband.

Iroh had accepted defeat only when he had heard her weak voice begging him to heed her wishes. "As you wish, Princess Ruka," he had said, bowing his head under the weight of a dark possibility. By bowing to her dignity, he knew he might relinquish the chance to see her before she died.

Her illness was uncommon and strange, in that day; she had weak blood, or so the physicians said. She could not eat sweet things too often, but then sometimes sugar would cure the shakes brought on by too much exertion. The blood malady had struck her after their son, Lu Ten, was born, and she had never recovered. Slowly, an infection had set in, stealing the use of her limbs, taking the feeling from her toes.

Iroh had gotten into the habit of eating whatever Ruka ate, abstaining from sweets as strictly as she did. He even brewed bitter teas especially for her. Ruka had smiled and told him how fortunate she was to have a husband who cared about her 'paltry little weakness.' Even to the moment she had been confined to bed, she had denied naming the malady an illness. She had delighted in Iroh's fast from sweets, but she would not hear of her son joining them in the fast.

"Absolutely not!" she had said, as indignantly as if he'd asked her to take off all her clothes and dance a harem hustle. "I will not have our son deprived of one of the few joys of childhood! He can eat all the sweets he wants and not gain an ounce! He won't be able to do that for long, my husband!"

Lu Ten would be given sweets every day, Iroh vowed silently, as he sat outside his wife's sickroom. Perhaps, if he made enough vows of that kind, Ruka's spirit would rouse itself and goad her body into following. What would he do without her? He could not raise a son all alone, without a woman to guide him. Lu Ten would be a little barbarian. He needed Ruka.

What was more, _Iroh _needed Ruka. She was common sense and graceful poise, a woman who complimented him in every way. She had caught his eye with her tasteful flirtation with every boy in the vicinity; when she had been a fresh debutaunte of the Fire Nation court, a single flick from her fan had driven young nobles to distraction. Iroh had avoided her like the plague, to begin with, somewhat afraid of her remarkable power over the opposite sex which so reflected his own.

But he, like every other young man at court, had been drawn to her sincere love of life. And, for the first time in his life, Iroh had used his title to gain permission to court her. Seven months later, they were married, and Ruka took to her position as Crown Princess as effortlessly as a bird to flight. She had never been afraid of power; she used it as a tool in her capable hands.

Knowledge of her place in society had brought on several arguments between the newly-wed couple. Iroh had cautioned her not to take advantage of her place as princess, and Ruka had laughed at him. "Oh, my husband, you worry too much about propriety! You'll see, our people will love me!" And, for years, the court had adored her. The admiration of the nobles had only increased once their son had been born.

To Iroh, it didn't matter if he was the only one in the world who loved her. He did love her, and he needed her unaffected grace in his constricted royal life. He wanted to again watch her give bread to a starving child on the street, to help her as she hung a new calligraphy scroll bearing the words _Peace, soon _on her wall. He did not want her to slip away into the darkness of the night, never to rise again and assume her duties as his princess.

"Lord Prince." The voice stirred him from his reverie. Iroh looked up at the physician standing over him. "My prince, perhaps you should go rest. Lady Ruka has asked that I make sure you get some sleep."

"It's not yet time for dinner," Iroh objected, frowning. Why did she want to send him away?

"I know, Prince Iroh, but I thought that you might want to sleep before tonight..." The physician left out all the key phrases in the sentence. Nevertheless, the unspoken words hung in Iroh's mind: _Sleep now, while you can. Before you're kept up all night, waiting for the end._

"You may tell the lady that I will wait here until she consents to see me," Iroh said, without the usual ironic tone in which he indirectly addressed his wife. It had been a game, once, when they were still young, to call each other 'the prince' and 'the lady.' It had made Ruka laugh.

"As you wish, my prince." With a bow, the physician left him to his silence.

Hours passed, hours of which Iroh barely had any remembrance. He did recall the time when Lu Ten had scrambled toward him, his small face worried. "Daddy, is Mommy more sick?"

"Yes, my son," Iroh had said, smoothing the boy's hair back with one hand. "Where is your nursemaid?"

Lu Ten had ignored the question, plopping into Iroh's lap with a sigh. "I can see her?"

Iroh had closed his eyes. "No, Lu Ten, I'm afraid not."

"Lu Ten!" A much younger voice than that of his son's nursemaid echoed down the hallway. A feminine figure appeared in the hallway facing Ruka's chambers, and for a moment Iroh thought he was seeing a vision of his wife in her debutaunte days. The girl hurried down the hallway with another, taller shadow in her wake.

"So, this is where you've run off to, you silly boy," said the girl, and Iroh recognized her at last. With a strained smile, Ursa bowed to Iroh and held out her arms, welcoming his son as he crashed into her. "Come on, little prince, stop bothering your father and come look at the turtleducks with me."

"Daddy needs me," Lu Ten said, pulling at Ursa's sleeves. She cuddled him closer to her, planting a kiss on his forehead. Iroh felt a tug at his heart; Ursa would make a fine mother, once she and Ozai were married.

His younger brother was standing behind the future princess. Divested of any armor, Ozai looked young and uncertain, his arms folded defensively over his plain red tunic. It was strange how, even when dressed identically, the princes could manage to look completely different. Iroh, sitting wearily against the wall, nearly laughed. He felt old and tired; Ozai appeared vibrant and strong. Iroh could recall being his age, when Ruka held the same beauty and patience as Ursa. He found himself missing those days with a deep ache in his heart.

"Don't worry, Lu Ten, I'll bring you to see him again soon," Ursa promised, with a glance at Iroh. "If it pleases my prince," she added in a murmur, blushing. No doubt she thought she was putting on airs, smothering an heir to the throne with her girlish love. Iroh could think of no woman more worthy to watch his child...no woman more worthy, except his wife, who had lost the ability to hold her son.

"I will summon you when the time is right," Iroh told Ursa, trying to hide the pain in his voice. It would be wrong to let Lu Ten's mother pass away without letting him see her one last time, but Iroh did not know if he had the strength to witness that parting.

Ursa nodded, picking up the little prince and putting him on her hip. "Turtleducks, here we come," she said, acting cheery for Lu Ten's benefit, even though her own voice broke.

The prince and princess-to-be walked away, trading silly phrases. Ozai remained, lifting his chin as he studied his older brother. Iroh could only lift his eyebrows, wondering what the boy could see, or what he sought. Without a word, Ozai crossed over and took a seat beside him, folding his legs into a meditation pose. Iroh looked over at his younger brother; Ozai looked back at him expressionlessly. Iroh looked away first, a startling lump forming in his throat.

Together, the princes sat, waiting for news from the sickroom. Ozai did not complain about the hardness of the floor or the time wasted waiting for the inevitable. Instead, he said nothing at all. Iroh was not in the mood to carry on one of his usual light-hearted conversations, so the brothers passed through evening in silence. Periodically, a physician would approach and deliver the same report: "She is much the same, my princes."

Finally, a different report came.

"The princess is waning, Prince Iroh," the physician said, his voice low.

Iroh closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. "How long do we have, Master Xi?"

"An hour or two, I should think," Xi replied.

"Very well."

Iroh looked to Ozai with a request on his lips, but his brother had already risen, seeming to read his mind. "Ursa will have Lu Ten still-they might still be in the garden," Ozai said, and hurried away, his pace more of a run than a walk.

"May I see her now?" asked Iroh, without bothering to couch the plea in a demand.

"Of course, my prince," Xi said, his face sad. "Princess Ruka asked for you a few minutes ago."

Iroh did not wait for Xi to lead the way; he stood and strode past the physicians clustered in the anteroom, entering his wife's chambers as quickly as he could. When his wife lifted her head and gave him a thin smile, Iroh returned it. He knelt at her side and took her hand, ignoring its unnatural chill, and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

"Princes don't kneel to the likes of me, my husband," Ruka said, her soft voice just loud enough to hear. "What will people think?"

"You once told me not to worry about propriety," Iroh said, keeping her hand tight to his chest.

"Ah," Ruka sighed, shifting, "I did."

"I will honor that wish, my dear Ruka."

"I think you have honored it already, my love," Ruka said. She mustered the strength to press her palm to his collarbone. "Such a good heart," she murmured. "There is no better man to look after my son." The words twisted Iroh's insides.

"Ozai has gone to find Lu Ten," Iroh told her. "He'll be here soon."

"Ozai?" Ruka lifted an eyebrow. "Well, even that boy has his good points."

"He came to sit with me while I waited to see you."

"There is hope for him, yet," Ruka said teasingly. "Ursa has done wonders on him."

"Let us hope she continues to change him," Iroh sighed. "As you have changed me."

Ruka shook her head, the movement sluggish. "We changed each other, Iroh, as a true husband and wife will. Neither of us can take too much credit for simply being ourselves."

"You have taught me to appreciate my duties as a prince," Iroh whispered, hoping the decrease in volume would hide his tears as he felt his wife's grip on his collarbone loosen. "You've taught me to be proud and to know true honor. And I will not let our son grow up without those teachings, Ruka."

"You must be balanced, for Lu Ten's sake," said Ruka, suddenly firm. "You must teach him how to be a prince, but also how to be a man. And, while you're at it, teach young Ozai, as well. He needs a little help, and the Firelord thinks he had better things to do."

"Well, there's no denying that," Iroh said, doing his best to reciprocate her humor. As his wife gave a dry, painful chuckle, he kissed her hand again. "But, Ruka, maybe the best way for him to learn is to be caught up in the flick of a certain young lady's fan."

From the way she managed to flex her fingers in his hand, he knew Ruka agreed.


	5. The Shadowy Bed

**Author's Note: You know, this story is really getting out of control. I wanted it to be entirely Urzai-centric, but it apparently has its own identity and wishes to assert it. This chapter is actually a Lu Ten/Ozai interaction, and it popped into my head of its own volition. I had not expected to update so soon. **

**This is my first formal Ozai POV. We'll see how it turned out...**

**Song: Itsumo Nando Demo, from the anime 'Spirited Away' .com/watch?v=1uxMlhaUC0k&feature=related (it seemed very Young Lu Ten. The lyrics are, of course, in Japanese).**

**Enjoy!**

5.

"Lu Ten?"

There was no answer from the shadowy space beneath the bed except a faint, hiccuping sob.

Ozai sighed, propping his chin in one hand. His robes were splayed out in an arrow shape, their fine white silk bright against the darkly-stained floor. The rug beneath him rubbed against his stomach in an uncomfortable way; it didn't help that he had lain there for five minutes, trying to coax his small nephew out from under the massive bed.

Had Ozai stopped to think, he would recall moments from his own early childhood when he had taken refuge under his own bed from bothersome nannies or noisome tutors. The beds in the royal family's quarters were the size of small boats, easy for a child to use against a larger person to escape them.

At the moment, Ozai was annoyed at the length of the bed that separated him from his nephew. "Come on, Lu Ten, stop hiding."

A deeper shadow rustled under the bed, accompanied by a loud sniff. Ozai sighed impatiently and ducked his head to avoid the low beam that supported the mattress. From that vantage point, he could clearly see the huddled ball of white that served as the youngest prince.

"You could at least let me look at you," Ozai said, "so I can tell your father that you're all right." Despite his irritation at mussing his robes and lying on the floor like a trophy rug, he did his best to soften the words. The boy had just lost his mother, after all.

Lu Ten gave another mighty sniff and lifted his face. His topknot was askew, a stripe of dirt marked his nose, and his eyes were red and puffy. A trail of mucus dripped from his nose, swiped sideways by a sleeve cuff.

Ozai tried not to grimace and forced his arms under the bed. "Don't you want to come out from there, Soldier Boy?"

"I-I'm not a solider boy, anymore," said Lu Ten. His voice was muffled, like he had a bad cold.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"B-because you've seen me cry," Lu Ten explained, taking another swipe at his nose. "Crying's not proper for a soldier."

"Bah, who told you that?" Ozai dismissed the thought, even though he silently agreed with his young charge.

"Chin told me."

"Chin? Is he a palace guard?"

"Yes," Lu Ten said, haltingly, "and he's a big swordsman. He doesn't even need to firebend!"

"Well, Lu Ten, I say you're going to make a fine soldier, one day. Now, who are you going to believe: me, or Chin?"

"Y-you," Lu Ten answered, without a moment's hesitation.

"Good answer," Ozai said, and extended his arms. "Since we've gotten past that obstacle, would you _please _come out from under the bed?" He knew Iroh would not be pleased with him if he could not persuade the baby prince to exit his hideout.

To Ozai's relief, Lu Ten nodded and crawled toward him. Once he was in reach, the older prince snatched the younger in his grip and pulled him quickly from under the frame of the bed. They sat together a moment as Ozai straightened both their robes and attempted to clean Lu Ten's face. The boy sat compliantly under the ministrations, only squirming when Ozai pulled on his hair to adjust the topknot.

"B-but I've never seen you cry, Uncle Ozai," Lu Ten objected, still on his first train of thought.

"Well, no," Ozai said, frowning as he tugged more firmly at the tiny golden flame fastened at the rise of the topknot. "I don't have a habit of crying in front of little boys."

"But, you do cry, sometimes?"

Ozai did not answer at once; he never felt quite comfortable talking about such things as crying and weakness. He was eighteen years old, and male, and convinced of his own maturity. And he had little experience consoling young boys about death. He did know that he had to answer Lu Ten, so he settled for the truth.

"I do," he said, flicking a wood chip off Lu Ten's white shoulder piece. "Or, I did. I don't do it so much, now; I'm many years older than you, though. People expect me not to cry."

"Because you're a great fighter?" asked Lu Ten, almost sympathetically.

Ozai fought down an ironic laugh. "Because I'm of age to go fight, and I'm a prince. But I won't be going anywhere, according to father," he added, under his breath.

Firelord Azulon's decision to hold back one of his sons to ensure the bloodline still rankled. Ozai knew he was just as capable in a fight as Iroh, but it had been the second youngest son who had to submit to their father's decree-as usual-and formally resign from his military commission. He was now in the reserves, along with half the population of the Fire Nation. _A home guard_, Ozai thought, in disgust,_ just like an old housewife_.

"You're a man, now," Lu Ten said, nodding sagely. He broke Ozai's dark thoughts with a pat on the shoulder. Ozai looked up, suprised and more than a little amused. "Father says you were very mature, Uncle Ozai," the youngest prince added.

Well, wasn't Iroh just being _so_ gracious? "Oh, does he? Why did he say that, and to you, of all people?"

Lu Ten plopped down next to Ozai on the rug, scooting closer until he was pressed right up to the older prince's side. "He said that it wasn't easy for you to give up going to war. He said it would be like someone asking me to give up my very favorite toy sword, and putting it away where I might not see it for a really long time-maybe even until I didn't want it anymore!" From Lu Ten's tone, this concept seemed impossible to comprehend. "And that's how badly you wanted to go fight, and now grandfather says you can't go."

Briefly, Ozai wondered if Lu Ten would one day go to war. It was hard to picture: the under-sized boy next to him would have to hit several growth spurts to be battle-ready by his sixteenth birthday. Of course, Iroh had never reached their father's statuesque height, so it was highly possible that Lu Ten would inherit the crown prince's short and stout stature. Then again, Ruka had been short and slight, and Lu Ten might take after her just as easily. For Lu Ten's sake, Ozai hoped he turned out at least as tall as Iroh.

"Uncle Ozai?" Lu Ten nudged him with an elbow the size of a tunic button.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever seen someone die?"

In hindsight, Ozai knew the question shouldn't have taken him off-guard; the royal family had finished giving Ruka her final rites two hours before. Lu Ten had stood by Iroh for the entire ceremony, tears clinging to his eyelashes and cheeks. The baby prince had not understood what was happening, but he had seen the misery on his father's face and the silent tears of Ruka's personal maids. And he had undoubtedly seen his mother's body consumed by flames, for that had been the moment at which he had fled.

The entire household, including the Firelord, had searched high and low for the missing child. Ozai had known immediately where his nephew had gone, but he had let the servants wear themselves out for a while until Iroh had lost his patience and threatened to keep everyone from eating, sleeping, or any activity other than searching until the prince was found. After that, Ozai had gone straight to Iroh's room and looked under the bed, and there he had found his nephew, crying over the loss of his mother.

In spite of all this previous knowledge, Lu Ten's morbid question startled the elder prince into telling the truth. "Oh, well, yes, Lu Ten."

"Who?"

"Um..." Ozai shrugged, choosing to brush off the gravity of the question. "A few soldiers who deserted, a few peasants, an assassin." He purposefully left out the person at the forefront of his mind: Lu Ten's own mother. "Mostly people who have disobeyed the Firelord."

"Were they bad people?"

"I'm sure, otherwise the Firelord wouldn't have killed them." That was stretching the truth, but Lu Ten was young and impressionable. Ozai had a duty to uphold his father's image to his little nephew.

Leaning back, Lu Ten puffed out his cheeks in thought. "Were you sad when they died?"

"No," Ozai answered readily.

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't know them. They meant nothing to me."

Lu Ten wriggled around until he rested against his uncle's shoulder. "But, Uncle Ozai, they were still something to somebody, right?"

The childish logic of the question left Ozai without one of his cherished comebacks. He could react glibly as he usually did, but looking down at Lu Ten's earnest golden eyes, the elder prince felt the retort die on his lips.

"You know what," Ozai said, "this is why I never want to have children. They just make everything so difficult, all the time."

Lu Ten looked puzzled at the response. "I'm sorry, Uncle Ozai."

"Whatever," Ozai said, standing and taking Lu Ten's hand, pulling the child to his feet. "It's high time we took you back to your father. He has probably destroyed half the palace and dug around in the gardens, looking for you."

"Daddy's worried?"

"No," Ozai said, in direct contrast to everything to which he had previously alluded. "He's just upset about...other things. But he does want to see you."

Lu Ten squeezed Ozai's hand and set his shoulders straight, adopting a very somber expression. "I want to go see him now," he said seriously. "I'm finished crying."

"Good."

Together, the two princes left the bedroom behind, their backs straight and their chins held high. No one of any importance had seen the private conversation on the floor of the chamber; no one had heard the words exchanged.

But years later, when the world came crashing down upon him in a blaze of earth and fire, Lu Ten would remember that moment-and his uncle's words-with a smile.

_Lu Ten, I say you're going to make a fine soldier, one day. _


	6. The Poisoned Darts

**Author's Note: This chapter...ahem. Well, I wasn't sure it was in-character, but I decided to post it anyway and get some feedback. I might actually replace it if I think it's too OOC, because the one rule upon which I base my fanfics is: Stay in-character! **

**I will give a few brief explanations: About Azulon-I think he is like most of the Firelords and doesn't always think before he acts. When one is the supreme ruler of the most prosperous nation in the world, one might get to the point where you deal out judgment too harshly for certain offenses. I also wanted to illustrate his obvious fondness for Lu Ten. As to Ozai...I think he is within the confines of his character, because this is pre-series Ozai, who is slightly different from in-series Ozai. Also, I had to work in a scene that resembled a Zuko/Ozai interaction. As we all know, children have a habit of learning from their fathers.**

**Song: For the First Time by The Script [clean version] .com/watch?v=v1QHNnxB70A (a strange choice, but a good one)**

**Enjoy!**

6.

Ursa prostrated herself before the throne, feeling a drop of sweat glide down her spine. The wall of fire that hid her sovereign from her view generated a large amount of heat, but that was not the cause for her perspiration. She had been summoned by Firelord Azulon himself, and it had been a private invitation. Everyone had vacated the throne room, even the guards.

Only Ozai remained, a solid presence beside her. He had thrown a withering glance at the single guard who had dared to suggest he depart with the rest of the officials. When Ursa had assured him that she would be all right, he had assured _her_ that, as her fiance, he would remain. Secretly, Ursa was relieved to have the prince next to her, even if she did not know his motives.

The Firelord spoke from behind the wall of flames, yanking Ursa's attention to the front of the room. "I trust you are well, Lady Ursa?" Azulon said, his voice unnervingly even.

"Yes, my Lord," Ursa answered, keeping her head down. She did not know what to do, except to respond politely and never try to make eye contact.

"That is pleasant to hear," the Firelord said. "And how are your parents?"

Her parents? Ursa swallowed, unhappy with the direction in which the audience was going. The conversation seemed too trivial. "Well enough, my Lord."

"Yes, I suppose they are." The Firelord's voice changed abruptly, turning hard and dark. The wall of fire snapped. "Tell me, Ursa, are they the ones that have instructed you to infiltrate the palace and attempt to assassinate the prince?"

"What?" gasped Ursa, too shocked to keep her manners. Beside her, Ozai flinched as if struck. She looked over at him, and, seeing the same wide-eyed incredulity on his face, she turned back to the throne. "My Lord, I have never tried to assassinate Prince Ozai!"

"Not Ozai," Azulon said coldly, "Lu Ten."

"Lu Ten?" She, Ursa, try to hurt the baby prince? Prince Iroh's only son? "My Lord, I-I would not even _think_-"

"You were alone with the child for several hours less than a month ago," Azulon interrupted her, and as he spoke, he rose from his place on the throne. The flames parted to let him descend from the elaborate dais. "On that same day, in the same garden in which you played, four poisoned darts were found stuck into a tree mere inches from where Lu Ten sat."

"But that does not mean-"

"If you were not responsible, how did you not notice the darts?"

Ursa felt trapped. The cavernous throne room closed in on her. "I-I don't know-"

"You were sitting right next to the child, were you not?"

"My Lord," Ozai spoke up from her left, "if Ursa was sitting so close to Lu Ten, there is a possibility that an assassin wanted to kill her, as well."

"Nonsense," said Azulon, pacing like a lion before the throne.

"Ursa has not had any weapons training," Ozai persisted. "She would not know the poisonous end of a dart from the feather end."

In that moment, Ursa could have leaned over and kissed Ozai right on the mouth. However, his defense of her seemed to anger the Firelord more. "You, my son, will be silent," he said ominously, "or I will have you removed from this audience."

Ozai subsided, but from the way his mouth tightened at the corners, Ursa knew he was far from subdued. She remembered the look well from their first real argument as a couple. If there was one thing Ozai hated, it was helplessness.

The Firelord addressed her again. "You will tell me the truth, and you will tell it to me now: who has sent you to make attempts on Lu Ten's life?"

"I have not tried to kill Lu Ten, My Lord," Ursa said, and discovered that her voice had disappeared.

"Speak up, girl!"

"I have not tried to kill Lu Ten!" repeated Ursa fearfully, shrinking from the Firelord's anger. "I swear, I would not hurt him!"

"Then explain those four poisonous darts," Azulon demanded.

"I-I can't! I did not see them!"

"Then who did this?" Azulon shouted, striding forward. It took all of Ursa's courage not to leap to her feet and run for the doorway. But even in her terror, she could not blame the Firelord; the assassination of an heir was no small matter. She kowtowed again to show her deference, but this only stirred the Firelord's fury. "Look at me, girl!"

Trembling, Ursa lifted her head and met the Firelord's blazing eyes. Ozai spoke again. "My Lord, perhaps she's telling the truth-"

"Stay out of this, Ozai-"

"But, everything she has done indicates-"

"Be quiet!"

"My Lord," Ursa said, "please, I don't know-"

"Someone must be punished for this!" Azulon loomed over her, his robes lending him extra height. Ursa stared up at him, every coherent thought wiped away as she realized that nothing would save her from his retribution. The Firelord needed a scapegoat, someone upon which to pin the assassination attempt. She was a convenient target.

Recklessly, Ursa threw out one last denial. "My Lord, if I had any designs against the royal family, why would I wait this long to act on them? I have been engaged to Prince Ozai for months-"

"Months during which you have seen every inch of the palace," snarled Azulon. "There would be no better time than when you had already gained the royal family's trust."

"No, Firelord Azulon, no!"

But the Firelord was beyond reason or pleas; he had cemented his suspicions into beliefs. Now, confronted by a face upon which he could blame the negligence of his guards, he acted out of pure rage. Azulon's hand rose and lashed out, rushing toward her.

Ursa screamed, but not because the blow found its mark. She cried out as she was shoved backward, falling onto her elbows, a shadow crossing her body. As she watched, horrified, the slap meant for her struck Ozai full across the face.

The Firelord had held back, otherwise the blow would have been ringed in fire. Even so, the slap sent Ozai sprawling, his forehead connecting with the floor with a loud bang. Ursa's stomach twisted when the prince pulled himself up and left a smear of blood in his wake.

The Firelord paused, momentarily stunned as Ursa had been stunned. They had both expected a verbal defense from Ozai, but neither had anticipated a physical reaction. Azulon regained his momentum soon enough. "You're being a fool, Prince Ozai."

Ozai's voice shook. "Father, I ask you to reconsider your position."

"For what? A pretty face?"

Azulon struck again, taking Ursa by surprise. She raised her hands to deflect the blow at the same time Ozai lunged sideways, failing to raise his forearm in time. The prince was knocked back to the floor, a new patch of blood sprouting on his cheek.

"Prince Ozai!" Ursa screamed, hoping someone would come and witness the madness taking place in the heart of the Fire Nation.

Ozai ignored her distress, and so did his father. The prince and the Firelord locked gazes, battling for a resolution to their own private conflict. Recovering from the most recent strike, Ozai sat straight up, the trickle of blood from his forhead and cheek giving him the appearance of a vengeful spirit. Likewise, the Firelord towered over the young people on the floor like the Sun Spirit himself. Azulon raised his hand again, and Ozai flinched involuntarily, his face already turned to minimize the blow.

Ursa could take no more. Without regard for propriety, she grabbed Ozai's shoulder and turned him, offering her own face as a target. "My Lord, please, take your compensation," she said, and somehow her voice was steady. "I accept your judgment." She shrank into herself, waiting for the blow to fall, hoping she would not need a palace physician to stitch her up.

At that moment, the Firelord came back to himself. He looked at the blood on his son's face, then saw the terror in Ursa's eyes, and stepped back. "I will question the guards again," Azulon said, his voice neutral of any emotion. "If they can't offer any more information, I will be forced to bring Lady Ursa in for another audience. And the next time, I shall not be lenient." His gaze fell upon Ozai. "If you wish to avoid that outcome, Prince Ozai, I suggest you find the assassin...or someone who could fit his description."

Ursa felt her tears spill from under her lashes. Nothing had been gained from her capitulation. She might not suffer for the attempt on Lu Ten's life, but someone would. Someone had suffered already, she corrected herself, catching sight of the lacerations on Ozai's face. In a cold burst of dread that clenched her insides, she realized that she was marrying into a world where every action had to have a reaction. Ozai had grasped this concept, but had chosen to thwart it for her sake. Numbly, she heard the Firelord dimsiss them. She stood and bowed alongside her prince, taking his hand as soon as they were out of the Firelord's sight and squeezing it until she was certain she had cut off his circulation.

As they walked silently beside each other, Ursa wondered how many times she would be required to thwart the Firelord's system, as well.


	7. The Dragon Eye Tree

**AU: Whoo, getting this one in late tonight. :p I am a slave to the Fire Nation royal family, I tell you...**

**This is another Iroh POV, and it's-well-I can't really call it a foreshadowing of the series, because a) it's not canon and b) it was written after the show came out. So, let's call it retroshadowing. XD**

**Song: Yiruma - May Be .com/watch?v=GF9w_iERKMA (it's a little soft and sweet, but that's all right)**

**Enjoy!**

7.

Iroh could remember the very first time he had truly realized that Ozai was a different sort of child. There had been previous instances where the elder prince had wondered where his younger brother had come from, but none stuck out in his mind as much as this particular vignette.

It had been a fine spring afternoon, when the palace was full of the fragrance of a thousand cherry blossoms. Iroh had been sitting on the eastern steps of the royal quarters, watching the sun set. He could remember the flavor of the cup of tea sitting in his hand, and how he had considered learning to brew tea, himself, so he would never go without its soothing relief.

Behind him, he had heard the laughter of his mother and wife as they shared their own pot of tea in the eastern ornamental garden. Ruka had barely left his side after his first campaign into the heart of the Earth Kingdom; that afternoon had been the first time they had been separated for a month, and it had been a separation imposed by his mother. Lady Ilah had insisted on a private tea session with her daughter-in-law, and Ruka had graciously accepted. Iroh had sighed, feeling a little forlorn, alone on the palace steps with nothing but his tea to keep him company.

That was when he had heard the rustling noises coming from another part of the garden. Iroh had perked up his ears, pinpointing the sounds to the miniature orchard two cloisters over. The heavy swishing of branches had led him to suspect that an intruder, a spy or assassin, had entered the palace and was climbing into the royal family's private quarters. He had picked up his teacup, slipped on his shoes, and tiptoed to the orchard, intent on sniffing the intruder out of his leafy entryway.

As he had crouched behind a low wall, Iroh had found that no one had snuck into the garden; on the contrary, someone was trying to sneak _out_. Ozai had been the source of the tree-shaking. The elder prince had watched, amused, as his younger sibling eyed the spry dragon-eye, the closest tree to the outer wall. The younger prince had backed up a few steps, then took a running leap and attached himself fiercely to the bark of the tree.

Ozai had managed to get one foothold on the smooth trunk before his small hands lost their grip and he tumbled back down. By the cock-eyed angle of his topknot, it had been apparent that the boy prince had been at his escape attempt for several minutes, and if Iroh had not known from his hair, he would have known by the harsh words spilling from Ozai's mouth. Iroh had blinked, impressed and somewhat embarrassed at his young brother's use of colorful language. He could remember hoping that Lady Ilah never heard her youngest son swearing like a stable hand; she would have surely blamed it on him.

After this miniature temper tantrum, Ozai had pushed some hair out of his eyes, spat on both his hands (another mannerism at which Lady Ilah would have fainted), and attacked the tree again. This time, he had latched on to one large branch, wrapping himself around it like a monkey and swinging himself up. But, at the last second, his foot had slipped, dumping him in a heap on the grass. Iroh's chest had twinged a little when Ozai did not get up immediately, but lay like a bundle of maroon laundry at the base of the tree, completely winded.

Iroh had thought that the matter was closed, then. He had even moved to stand, to go check on his younger brother and scold him for trying to leave the palace. But he had stopped as Ozai had risen, his small frame rigid as a metal mast, looking up at the dragon-eye. The youngest prince had folded his hands behind his back and tilted his head so that his topknot appeared straight. And he had stood that way for over a minute, staring at the tree as Iroh stared at him, wondering what in world was going on in that childish brain.

Finally, Ozai had reached down and untied his belt, holding up the piece of fabric to judge its length. Seeming satisfied, the boy had thrown the belt over the lowest branch of the dragon-eye, looping it twice for stability. Then he had tied a knot at the bottom of the belt where the two ends met and used that as his foothold, pushing the rest of his body up onto the branch. When he had settled himself, he had reached down, untied the knot, and repeated the process on the next branch, working his way to the other side of the tree.

Iroh had watched the whole scheme play out with an open mouth. He had only just realized that he needed to stop his baby brother from making good on his escape as Ozai's figure had vanished inside the leaves. Then he had sprinted forward and called, "Where do you think you're going?"

There had come a startled cry from the upper branches, and then Ozai had peered back down at the base of his getaway tree. "Oh," he had said, looking innocent, "hello, Iroh."

"Hello, Ozai," Iroh had said calmly. "That was quite a good escape plan you had, there; it would have worked, too, if I hadn't have taken my tea out on the eastern steps."

"I-I'm not trying to escape!" At age seven, Ozai had not been such a great liar.

"I did my fair share of sneaking around when I was your age," Iroh had admitted, "but I was never so clever as this. But you must make sure you haven't ruined that belt; mother will notice and wonder what you've been doing."

Ozai had slumped glumly against a branch. "You're going to tell mother about this, aren't you?"

"I don't see why I would," Iroh had said, with a smile. "As long as you come down, now-"

"I will come down-"

"And never try this again."

"Oh," Ozai had said, folding his arms. "I knew there was a catch."

"There's _always_ a catch," Iroh had said. Ozai had stuck out his tongue, making the older prince laugh. "You may not like it, Prince Ozai, but it's true."

"Whatever," Ozai had said, and sighed, shifting on his feet like guilty children do. "I suppose I had better come down, now?"

"That would be best-"

Iroh never had figured out how the little ruffian had done it; it irked him that he, one of the finest military minds of the Fire Nation, had been outwitted by his seven year-old brother. In the time it took Iroh to say, 'That would be best,' Ozai had scrambled through the tree and over the wall, leaving nothing but his triumphant laugh behind. And Iroh had picked his jaw up off the ground for the second time that afternoon.

Twelve years later, Iroh sighed as he met a familiar sight by the eastern wall of the royal orchard. The dragon-eye had grown to a ponderous height, swaying over the wall and dropping an occasional fruit onto the ground below. Its branches bore enough leaves to conceal a boy who had grown just like the tree.

"Don't you think you're getting a little old for this routine, baby brother?" asked Iroh, tucking his hands inside his sleeves. You could just walk out the palace doors, you know; you're not confined here, anymore."

Ozai glanced back down, one foot still poised on the edge of the wall. "No one can know about this," he said, and, as Iroh took in his dark clothes and nondescript topknot, he understood.

"You know the rule, Ozai?" Iroh asked, watching the last of the black cloth fade into the green leaves.

"Yes," came sarcastic the answer, from somewhere in the tree, "and I learned it all by myself."

Iroh shook his head. Ozai's excursions that required an escape through the orchard were not ones with which he wished to get involved. "Just don't get caught," he said, trying to put as much care into the words as he could. He received a scoffing noise in return. Pretty soon, he knew that his brother was gone, in the outer palace and soon to be on the streets of the capital.

"Someday, I'll cut this tree down," muttered Iroh, with a dark glance at the swaying branches of the dragon-eye. The tree swished in the breeze, seeming to echo a moment from years before: a boy's triumphant laugh.


	8. The Farthest Window

**AU: Somehow, this baby is fourteen pages long...I don't know how...I think I might have blacked out when I wrote this chapter. XD I hope its length is indicative of its quality!**

**I hope, once again, that everyone can see the retroshadowing. I also hope that there are no cries of, "OOC!" from the ranks. **

**Song (for the lolz): Baby It's Cold Outside -by She & Him .com/watch?v=iigfts-sJFg**

**Enjoy!**

8.

Ursa set down her brush and finger-combed the last length of her hair. She noticed that the ends were split, making a mental note to ask her mother's maid to trim the long black strands in the morning. Examining her hair and face was an integral part of her bedtime ritual; she felt restless lying in bed with a disheveled head and rough skin. Her mother had taught her to take good care of herself, and the lessons had been restated after her engagement to a prince.

Sighing, Ursa took one last look in the mirror before she rose from her dressing table. Slipping out of her black silk bathrobe, she stretched, letting the long sleeves of her nightgown fall to her elbows as she climbed into bed. The day had been insufferably long. A formal tea ceremony had taken up the greater part of her afternoon, leaving her mind dull and her eyes watering from the mixed scents of teas and the mind-numbing conversation. She had rarely felt more grateful to slip into bed and let her body relax.

Moments later, a soft tapping sound broke through Ursa's sleepy thoughts. Sitting up in bed, she listened intently. There it was, as real as the bedsheets clinging to her legs: a gentle but urgent rapping noise, coming from the rice paper windows on the outside wall of her bedroom. Ursa took a moment to find the long, pointed poker she kept at her bedside, hefting its iron weight into her hand. Raising the poker above her head, she tiptoed to the window.

"Hello?" Ursa whispered, tightening her grip on the metal tool. "I-Is someone there?"

"Ursa!" An all too familiar voice hissed.

"Ozai?" gasped Ursa, dropping the poker with a loud clang. She winced, then spun as a knock came from her bedroom door. She heard Aki, her family's security guard, ask her if she was all right. She answered quickly, "Yes, Aki, I'm fine! I just dropped my hairbrush!"

"All right, Lady Ursa," Aki replied, and Ursa watched his shadow recede from under the door.

She turned back to the window, to her late-night visitor. "Prince Ozai," she whispered, "what are you doing in my garden, at this hour?"

"I've been locked out of the palace," came his reply, as quiet as her question.

"Locked out? But you're the prince!"

"I'm not the crown prince," Ozai said, with a touch of bitterness.

Ursa stood in silence, absorbing the information and her fiance's predicament. She pictured the prince spending the entire night roaming the streets of the capital, alone and unguarded. "When can you find a way back into the palace?"

"At sunrise; that's when the south and east gates are opened."

"Sunrise," muttered Ursa discontentedly, worrying a loose string on her nightgown. "But, you can't stay outside for that long."

"No, I can't," Ozai said, rather dryly. "I was rather hoping you would open the window, actually."

"Oh!" Ursa's cheeks flooded with crimson. She looked down at her state of undress and blushed further. She felt her heart begin to pound; having her fiance in her room in the dead of night was prohibited by the iron-clad laws of culture and good breeding, but that was certainly not the cause of her nervousness. Self-consciously, she made a dash for her bathrobe and picked it up from its place on the back of a chair.

"Ursa," Ozai said, "could you at least give me an answer? It's freezing out here, and if you're going to refuse, I'll go to-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Ursa interrupted him, then added, "Prince Ozai," as an afterthought. She finished shrugging on the robe and skittered to the window, sliding back the thin pane of paper as slowly as possible. Even with her caution, the wooden frame scraped against its track. "Hurry," Ursa said, simultaneously clutching her bathrobe closed and jamming the window further into place. "Aki makes a round of the gardens each night before he goes to bed."

Ozai gripped the window ledge and swung himself over the wall, landing with a light thud on the bamboo floor. He brushed himself off, and a few pale pink petals fell from his tunic. Ursa stared at him as she took in his appearance. Ozai seemed least like himself in plain black clothes, with his glorious hair tied in a conventional topknot. A pair of long wooden sticks traditionally used by less prestigious fighters were tied against his hip with a dark brown sash. To the ignorant observer, he would look like any other hired fighter that hung around the city, a young student of a greater master seeking some extra money.

Ursa knew that, should he discover that his own son had been running around the capital in such attire, Firelord Azulon's wrath would know no bounds. She turned so the prince would not see how the very thought of his father made her shiver with fear. "Prince Ozai," she said unsteadily, "what _have_ you been up to?"

Ozai did not answer immediately; Ursa turned back to find his eyes on the hand that held her bathrobe closed. Even as she watched, they danced over the curve of the robe's collar, which had slipped to expose her collarbones. She couldn't repress the embarrassed glare she shot at him. To his credit, he pointedly looked away while she snatched up her sash and tied the robe tightly around her nightgown.

The prince finally answered her question. "I was looking for a man to 'fit an assassin's description,'" he said, tightening his own sash, unconsciously mirroring his fiance.

Ursa froze, remembering Azulon's command to his youngest son. "The Firelord is going to make you go through with that?"

"My father never goes back on his word," Ozai said, with a grim smile. "I am told it's the mark of a great leader."

"I will not tell you what _I_ think it is," muttered Ursa.

"What?"

"Feel free to sit, Prince Ozai," Ursa said, gesturing to the chair at her dressing table. "You might as well make yourself comfortable; it's a long time before dawn."

"That chair doesn't look too comfortable," Ozai said.

Ursa couldn't help but smile. "Well, if you promise to behave honorably, we can sit together." She went to her bed and sat down, patting the spot next to her. Ozai, with some hesitation, joined her. He kept a good foot of space between them, but Ursa could still feel the radiation of his elevated body temperature. She had heard that this was a classic symptom of a powerful firebender.

"Wait," Ozai said suddenly, jumping up and crossing to the window. "Your guard would definitely notice this," he commented, sliding the panel shut. "And we can't have our reputations ruined, can we?"

"Your reputation would be fine," Ursa said, with a laugh. "No one from court would recognize you in that disguise."

"My reputation is nothing without yours."

"True," Ursa said, doing her best not to notice the prince's heavy gaze, "although you could call off the engagement, if I was disgraced. You could be free to marry whomever you wanted..."

She had meant for the words to be light, carefree, but they fell short. The end of her sentence drifted off under Ozai's disapproving frown. "You think I would actually do that, don't you?" he asked, flinging himself down into the chair.

"Do what?" Ursa asked back, too quickly.

"Sell your reputation for my own benefit." Ozai sounded as if he could not believe the depths to which she would plunge his character.

"Well, you did just say that you spent the entire day looking for an innocent man to execute."

Like so many times before, Ursa wished she could take the words back into her mouth and rearrange them into something resembling a gentle rebuke. Instead, she had just stabbed the truth into Ozai like a jagged blade. And, to twist the knife deeper, she could find in herself no remorse. She only wished she had stated it in kinder terms.

Ozai stood up. He said nothing, but the absolute lack of expression on his face scared Ursa. Usually, emotions played so freely on the prince's countenance, it was easy to gauge his feelings toward a person or an idea. Ursa was disturbed to see her method of discernment wiped so clean. "I wasn't looking for a man to pin the assassination on," he said, his voice even. "I was looking for the assassin, himself."

Ursa shook her head; she knew her fiance too well. "Are you telling me the truth, Prince Ozai?"

"The truth?" As Ozai took a pinched breath, the candles around Ursa's room burst into light. She forced herself not to flinch. "Would the truth make you feel any better?"

"No," Ursa whispered, curling up on her bed and shutting him out. As she buried her face in the sheets, she knew the truth of her answer. How could she feel reassured by the fact that, to spare her life, someone else would have to die?

"Ursa." When she didn't respond, Ozai strode over to her bed. "Ursa!"

"Shhh!" Ursa lifted her face to put a finger to her lips. "Prince Ozai, my parents will hear you-"

"I don't care-"

"Well, I do-think of what our families would say-"

"My family got us into this mess!"

"What?" Ursa gasped. In spite of her control, she could not stop the hurt expression from crossing her face.

Ozai correctly read the look in his fiance's eyes and sighed. "I didn't mean our marriage arrangement, Ursa. I meant the search for the assassin."

"Oh."

"You're so sensitive."

"I am not," Ursa said indignantly.

"Weren't you just joking about breaking off our engagement?" Ozai demanded. "And, then, you nearly cried when I made the same allusion!"

Ursa turned red from mortification. "I'm sorry I joked about that! I didn't mean it!"

"It doesn't matter." Ozai's tone had grown colder than steel. He turned toward the window, one hand resting on the heavy wooden sticks at his hip. "It was only a joke. Jokes don't mean anything."

"I really didn't mean it," Ursa repeated. She bit her lip when the prince did not respond, then rose from her bed and crossed the room. Reaching out one tentative hand, then the other, she closed her arms around Ozai's shoulders, resting her chin against his collarbone. "I shouldn't have said that, about the assassin," she said softly. "It's not your fault; you can't help it. Your father..." Her throat closed over at the thought of the Firelord's enraged attack, of his hand striking his own son to the ground. "It's my fault, really-if I hadn't been so stupid-I should have known I couldn't be alone with Lu Ten-"

"You're being absurd," Ozai said, his hand closing around hers as it tightened against his arm. "How could you have known about an attempted assassination? Although," he mused, "someone _should_ have been watching the garden-wait-" he straightened suddenly, "Someone _must_ have been watching the garden..."

"Ozai?"

Ursa watched his eyes light up with an almost predatory gleam. "There must have been guards around that garden," he said. "The heir to the throne and a future princess, together, completely unguarded? How likely is that?"

"Not very likely," Ursa said. She put her face back against her fiance's shoulder, trying to decipher that light in his eyes. "There were four or five guards watching me and Lu Ten; I recognized one of them from my visits."

Ozai pulled himself out of her embrace and went to the window. "One of them must have seen the assassin," he said, "or one of them _was_ the assasin-"

"What are you doing?" Ursa asked, as the prince seized the edge of the window and began to open it. "Ozai, no!"

Ozai actually looked startled. "What?"

"You can't go looking for that assassin at this time of night!"

"When other time am I going to look? He'll have escaped by the end of this week!"

"I don't care," Ursa said, going to the window and tugging on his hands. "You shouldn't go out again. It's dangerous for the prince to be wandering around at night, and there's no way Aki will fail to notice you coming back in."

"I have to do this, Ursa," Ozai said, as if she was the one behaving irrationally.

"Who says?" When he gave her an ironic look, she sighed. "I don't think your father had this in mind when he charged you with finding the man who tried to kill your nephew."

"I don't care what he had in mind," Ozai answered testily. "He shouldn't have made me do this in the first place."

"Well, being stupid about it isn't going to help anything!" Ursa placed her hands flat behind the window, effectively stopping its ability to slide. In order to open the panel, Ozai would have to smash her fingers.

"Don't you understand?" Ozai demanded, grabbing her hands and pulling them out of harm's way. "This is just a test, Ursa! My father knows you didn't try to kill Lu Ten-he's just testing me to see if I'll let you take the blame!"

In truth, Ursa didn't understand; how could she, when her life was so far removed from the intrigues of the royal family? How could she understand a father who used his own son's fiance as a test of loyalty, when her own father would never dream of putting her lover's life in danger?

She did not expose her innocence to Ozai. Instead, she stepped back and let him open her window. Then she gave him her ultimatum. "If you climb out that window tonight, I will never speak to you again."

Ozai froze. "What?"

"I'll tell everyone you were here tonight, and I'll tell them you tried to hurt me." Ursa could hardly believe she had the strength to speak the words, but she did not stop. "I might even scream, right now-"

"Why would you do that, Ursa?"

Ursa wanted to tell him that she was protecting him, saving him from becoming a vassal of his father's bidding. There had to be some other reason why the Firelord had given his son the order to track that assassin, and she knew that the ulterior motive was sure to be worse than the obvious one. But she knew that Ozai would never listen to such a vague explanation. She knew that she could not truly appease him, but she tried anyway.

"This matter can rest until morning," Ursa said, gently drawing Ozai's fingers away from the window. "If the assassin has fled the country, just tell your father you killed him, take him some bloody clothes, and make him happy."

Ozai watched her with a speculative expression. "You don't think that would actually work-"

"Why not?" Ursa lifted an eyebrow and went on, "Your father just wants you to prove that you won't let a threat to the throne go unpunished. He just wants some proof that you're strong. So, give him some proof, Ozai, but don't kill yourself trying to get it."

Ozai stilled as Ursa laid her head against his chest, suddenly exhausted from her wild scheming. After a moment in which they could hear one another's breathing, he closed one arm around her. "Your plan seems acceptable," he said, with a hint of humor.

"I am glad my prince finds it so," Ursa said sarcastically.

"I think your nightgown is even more acceptable," he said, flicking the black silk pressed so close to his chest.

Ursa hid her eyes and her blush. "Now, that was going too far, even for you, Prince Ozai."

"Oh, there's very little that's too far for me," Ozai retorted, with a proud smirk.

"I hope you didn't mean that in the way it sounds, because I _will_ scream for Aki, if you did."

"I didn't," laughed Ozai, and proved his point by giving her a very chaste kiss on one hand.

For the rest of the night, Ursa could not remember what was said; they were lost in quiet conversation, peaceful compared to the beginning of their evening together. She knew that her fiance was restless, still intent upon his mission to find the attempted killer, so she began to talk, relating every infuriating detail of the afternoon tea ceremony. In turn, Ozai told her about sneaking out of the palace and swearing Iroh to secrecy once he had been caught.

They sat beside one another on the floor, their hands laced together, speaking of everything and nothing. The topics that meant the most to them-their impending marriage, the Firelord's plans for their lives-were ones they avoided. At times, Ursa stifled her giggles with her hand, shushing herself and Ozai when they had trouble containing their laughter. At other times, they sank into a thoughtful silence broken when one or the other voiced a new thought.

Eventually, talking gave way to staring into space, and staring gave way to sleep. Althought Ursa knew that she should stay awake to mark the rise of the sun, she drifted off with Ozai's arm holding her to his side, her lungs keeping time with his slower breaths. In what seemed like moments, she was jolted into awareness as Ozai sat bolt upright, his arm clenching her tighter while his other hand burst into flame.

"Stay right there, you ruffian," said a familiar voice, accompanied by the end of a shining silver sword as it pressed itself into the threads of Ozai's tunic, just below his throat.

"Aki!" gasped Ursa, cold adrenaline shooting through her. The family guard glared down at her fiance, his sword grasped by furious fingers. "Put your sword down, Aki," Ursa begged, gripping Ozai's free hand in both of hers.

Aki diverted his attention from Ozai enough to let the disappointment in his eyes shine through. "I am very surprised at you, Lady Ursa, betraying the prince like this."

"Aki, no-"

"And you," Aki said, leveling his sword against Ozai's neck, "are certainly no gentleman, stealing into a lady's room in the dead of night. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

It was clear that Aki did not recognize the youngest Fire Prince, which did not surprise Ursa in the least. She found herself in a serious dilemma: she could either reveal Ozai's true identity or let Aki throw him out as a secret lover, left with a lasting impression of his young mistress's infidelity. "Please don't hurt him, Aki," Ursa said, with half a mind to bat the sword out of the way herself.

"I think I should report this to your father," Aki said severely.

"No, don't!" Ursa cried. "Please, don't!" When the guard hesitated, she pressed, "This's won't happen again, I promise, Aki! He just needed to get off the street for the night!"

"I'm sure," huffed Aki. "But young men can't just waltz in here whenever they feel like it-"

"I think, in this instance, they can," Ozai said, and slowly raised his hands to his head. Ursa waited, confused, until she saw him unfasten the tie holding his topknot.

As the prince's black hair fell down around his shoulders, Aki's eyes widened. He stepped back, falling into a pose of respect. "Prince Ozai; forgive me, I didn't recognize you, or I wouldn't have called you a ruffian."

"That's quite all right," Ozai said dryly, and returned the salute as he stood. "Thank you for the shelter, Ursa," he told her, and strode to the window. He was stopped, once again, by the tip of Aki's sword.

Ursa stood, too. "Aki!"

"I-I'm sorry, my prince," said Aki unsteadily, "but-I cannot let this pass-my employer must be informed-"

"You could be killed for drawing that sword on me," Ozai said darkly. Ursa watched the two men face off, helpless, wishing for the power to intervene, but knowing that the prince had every right to execute Aki on the spot.

Aki firmed up his stance. "I have a duty to my employer, lord prince, that cannot be broken." To Ursa's relief, he backed off a step, putting his sword into a low guard. "But, if you can give me your word that you treated Lady Ursa with honor, I shall give you five minutes to run before I start to chase you."

"I have always treated your mistress with honor," Ozai answered, then added, "Except, perhaps, the time when I knocked her into a fountatin."

Ursa rolled her eyes. "You know, Prince Ozai, you are nothing but trouble," she said, with enough humor to let him know she was teasing.

"I know," Ozai said, flicking a stray hair out of his eyes. "Next time, I think I would have better luck if I dressed as a woman and came to the front door." With that, he bowed to her and left, jumping out the window.

Five minutes later, Aki began to shout for the lord of the house, announcing the discovery of an intruder in his daughter's bedroom, and Ursa began to shed tears of imaginary shame.


	9. The Tangled Sarong

**Author's Note: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. Feedback would be appreciated! Also, I would like to know if anyone has read any really, really awesome ATLA fanfics recently. I'm always looking for some fanspiration (cheesiest pun in the history of of the universe)!**

**If anyone is interested, I'm going to post some of my own recommendations for Urzai fanfics at the bottom of this chapter. I had one reviewer ask if my fanfiction was the only Urzai-centric story on this site. It is not, my dear friends! And, it is probably not the best quality fic, either. So, more info at the bottom.**

**Song: Brighter than the Sun by Colbie Caillat .com/watch?v=nBUnW_kgSyo (come on, it has the sun and lightning in the lyrics! It's Urzai!)**

**Enjoy!**

9.

The weather in the Fire Nation isles was unseasonably warm that year, even for summer. Many noble families arranged their schedules to squeeze in several weeks of respite on their Earth Kingdom estates. For others, such as those accustomed to the more volcanic islands, a trip to the vacation resorts on Ember Island seemed the best course of action.

Ursa's father had lived on one of those volcanic islands for many years, and so she had ended up on Ember Island in the middle of the summer heat. Stripped down to her barest sarong, Ursa wished-not for the first time-that she was a man and could take off all her upper clothing. She had tied her hair into a tight bun to keep it off of her neck and chest, but she was covered in sweat nevertheless.

Although she did not consider herself a weak-willed person, Ursa knew the persuasion of the heat was beating her desire to sunbathe. She fanned herself with a large palm leaf, sighing in fatigue. As she looked down the populated beach, she wondered how the older women could stand their more conservative outfits. Her mother had given up the attempt even before she had stepped outside, choosing to remain at the family's beach house rather than accompany her daughter down to the shore.

"Ursa!" Her cousin, Sai, shouted, waving at her. "Come on, the water is perfect!"

Ursa grimaced and shook her head. "No, thanks," she called back, "I'm fine!"

Sai giggled along with Ursa's other cousin, Imir, and together the two girls splashed around in the waves. Predictably, several boys joined them in a moment. Ursa rolled her eyes; it seemed that no matter where they went, her two cousins managed to draw male attention to them like flies to rotten coconuts. It was not surprising to Ursa: after her fifteenth birthday, Sai had grown into a shapely young woman, and Imir had a leonine grace about her that men found very attractive.

"Hello, there!"

The voice startled Ursa's mind out of its heat-induced rambling. She shaded her eyes and looked up at the source of the voice. "Oh, hello," she said, with a neutral smile.

The boy standing beside her beach mat was as tanned as any Fire Nation native could be, every inch of his exposed skin glowing bronze in the sun. Ursa took in his white smile and brown eyes with a detached interest. She felt as if she was observing one of the cast metal statues on the beach house porches.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" the boy asked, flashing his perfect, white teeth.

"Of course not," Ursa said, perplexed. "I don't own this beach."

The boy laughed like she had said something hilarious. "I'm Jan," he said, as he plopped down beside her and offered her his hand.

Ursa took it, giving it a bemused shake. "I'm Ursa."

"Do you live here?"

"No, but my family comes here almost every summer." She nodded at the two girls playing in the waves. "Those are my cousins, down there, and my father and mother are at the beach house. Do you have any relatives with you?"

"Yeah, my uncle and his kids. They're a lot younger than me," Jan said, with an eye-roll, "and they're _really_ annoying. I mean, I like kids," he added hastily, "but sometimes those little stinkers make me want to dunk them a few times in the ocean, you know?'

Ursa laughed. "I don't know; I don't have any younger relatives."

"Well, count yourself lucky," Jan said, in a heartfelt tone. He turned to watch the waves, but Ursa could see him looking at her from the corner of his eye. "So, Ursa," he said casually, "would you like to take a walk with me?"

Ursa thought for a moment, sizing Jan up. She knew her father would not like for her to wander around with strange boys, but the setting was too public for anyone to misconstrue her intentions. Jan seemed like a nice young man; she did not want to needlessly offend him. "Just let me get my hat," Ursa said, pulling the large straw object from her bag.

Jan beamed at her as she stood and brushed the sand off her legs. "And I thought today was going to be boring," he said, bouncing happily to his feet. "Come on, let's get closer to the water."

"Oka-hey!" Ursa was not prepared for him to grab her hand. Jan pulled her along behind him, and Ursa raced to catch up, delicately removing her hand from his grasp. "What's the rush?" she asked, feeling heat rise up in her cheeks from the contact.

"There's no rush," Jan said, and Ursa was surprised to see a blush cross his face, as well. "I just have a hard time going anywhere slow."

"Perhaps that's a skill you should work on," Ursa suggested, but she laughed to show she wasn't offended by his gesture.

Jan smiled and slowed down as they reached the water. "My master always says that." He lifted a solemn finger and quoted, "'If boys were birds, Jan, you would be the whistle-falcon'."

Ursa paused. "An Air Nation bird? That's funny...how does your master know about those?"

"He's _very_ old," Jan said, emphasizing the word with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "He can still remember Firelord Sozin's time." He chuckled at the stunned look on Ursa's face. "There are two or three firebending masters who can remember when Sozin was a teenager."

"I had no idea," said Ursa. Her mind tried to wrap itself around the concept of living over one hundred years-of seeing the beginning of the century-long war. She found the idea incomprehensible. "Your family must be quite prestigious, if you can afford such a distinguished teacher."

"Oh, well..." Here Jan looked slightly uncomfortable, scuffing the sand with his foot. "My dad has a good trade established with the Earth Kingdom farmers, that's all. We're new money, you see." He ducked his head and mumbled, "My mother says I shouldn't call us that, here, though, where everybody inherits their wealth."

"Working hard for your prosperity is nothing to be ashamed of," Ursa told him kindly. "My uncle on my mother's side is a merchant, and he makes more money than any of our landed relatives."

"So, you're a noble, huh?" Jan asked, then, "I guess I should have known. You look-" he blushed again, "um-you look-very...regal."

"Thank you," Ursa said. She considered telling him about her engagement to the Fire Prince, but then decided not to intidmidate him any further. Since Jan already felt self-conscious about his family, it would be rude to mention her own rise in status.

"Wait..." Jan looked back at her, suddenly tense, "you're not _married_ into money, are you?"

"No!" Ursa laughed. Where had he come to that conclusion? "Not yet, anyway. My family has their own wealth."

"Not yet?" Jan pressed.

Ursa sighed. "Do you really want to know?"

A line appeared between Jan's brows. "Yes, please."

"All right: I'm engaged to Prince Ozai."

Jan just snickered, causing Ursa to look up at him in surprise. "No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am."

"Look, if you don't want to go out with someone, you could just say so."

"No, really, I am engaged to Prince Ozai!"

"Okay, Ursa," Jan said, sounding slightly miffed that she would persist with her lie.

Ursa stamped one foot on the sand, using it as an anchor to stop their walk. "Look, Jan, I'm telling the truth," she said earnestly. "I'm engaged; I'm going to be married next spring."

Jan's eyebrows furrowed, and he crossed his arms over his bare chest. Ursa waited for his reaction. At last, Jan said, "But-but, I thought-"

A shout rose up from the tide, cutting the boy off. "_Ursa!_"

Internally, Ursa groaned; could her cousins not entertain themselves for five minutes? She turned as Sai came flailing out of the water, waving her arms in a passable imitation of an octo-eel. "Ursa," she panted, as she reached the two teenagers on the shore, "Imir needs you to help untangle her sarong."

Ursa cast an unhappy glance at Jan; she knew her cousins were trying to get her away from him, and she did not want to leave him with a bad impression of herself. "Sai, couldn't this wait just five-"

"No, no, no!" Sai latched onto Ursa's arm. "This sarong is the really fancy embroidered one, and if Imir can't get it straightened out, it will probably tear! Please, Ursa, she needs your help!"

"Fine," said Ursa, tugging on her straw hat so it hid her eyes from Jan's disappointed gaze. "I'm sorry, Jan; this sarong situation sounds pretty serious."

"It's all right," Jan said, although his tone said otherwise.

"I hope we can talk more, sometime-"

"Ursa! Come on!"

"I'm coming." Ursa waved to Jan and marched away, pulling Sai's hand off her arm.

Not a second passed before Sai burst. "Ursa, how can you be so cruel?"

"Huh?" was Ursa's eloquent reply.

"Why were you leading that poor boy on like that?" Sai's tone was as censorious as it could be. "Honestly, what has gotten into you?"

"I wasn't leading anyone on-" began Ursa.

Sai interrupted again. "It was obvious he liked you-I mean, boys don't just come up and start a conversation because they like to talk-"

"Sai, really-"

"And, he was good-looking, I know-"

Ursa tried to protest. "But, I wasn't-"

"But, you're engaged, Ursa, and you can't ever be with him, so why would you be so forward with him?"

"We were just talking!" Ursa said, her face on fire.

"You're blushing," Sai said, with a knowing smile. "Oh, good, we're back!" The two girls had returned to their line of blankets on the beach. Ursa's younger cousin skipped up to her bright red blanket and sat down. "Hello, Imir!"

"Ursa blushes all the time," Imir said, continuing the conversation from her place on the sand. "It doesn't necessarily mean anything."

Sai had not been lying; Imir's sarong was horribly tangled from being stuffed in a bag. The tasseled threads at the end were knotted into a ball. Ursa knelt and started to separate the strands, avoiding her cousins' stares.

"Ursa..." Sai paused, seeming to debate whether or not to continue. "What about...your young fighter?"

Ursa was distracted by a particularly snarled bunch of thread. She answered without thinking. "Who, Prince Ozai?"

"No...no, the _other_ boy-"

"Sai," said Imir, in a scandalized tone.

"Well, everyone knows about him!" Sai said defensively.

Ursa's hands froze on the tassels. "I told you, Sai, there is no other boy," she said, feeling her heart sink a little in her chest.

When word had gotten out to the other noble families about the young man discovered in her bedroom, Ursa had gone straight to her cousins and told them not to believe a word of the rumors. She had thought that Sai and Imir had understood that she had lied about the 'young fighter' to escape another kind of disgrace. Apparently, she had not done a sufficient job of dissuading them from popular opinion.

Sai clucked her tongue sympathetically. "That's what all this is about, isn't it?" she asked, in a low voice. "You're just not ready to get married, so you want to have some fun-"

"Sai!" Imir interjected again, swatting her younger sister on the arm. "Ursa is not like that!"

"Of course she is," Sai said, pushing Imir away, "every girl is like that when it comes to the despair of an arranged marriage!"

"Oh, please," Ursa said. With a brisk tug, she finished detangling the sarong and handed it back to Imir a little too abruptly. "I have never compromised my betrothal, Sai. I am not betraying Prince Ozai's trust."

There was a moment of silence, before Imir spoke. "We would undestand, though, if you did," she said, softly.

"Yes," Sai agreed, putting an earnest hand on her cousin's shoulder. "We know how you valued your freedom. I would be angry, too-"

"No, no!" Ursa shook her head. "You don't understand: I don't mind being engaged. The wedding isn't until the spring. I have plenty of time to be single."

Her two cousins shared a significant look, and Ursa sighed and flopped back onto her mat. She knew that, short of screaming news of her developing feelings for the Fire Prince from the rooftops, she would never convince anyone that she did not dread her impending marriage.

Among the Fire Nation nobility, there was a clear understanding of arranged marriage: it was a necessity for non-benders, a convenient alternative for less talented benders, and a true joy to none. It was, essentially, a way for the committed families to increase their power and to flaunt their prestige. Of course, there was another form of arranged marriage that resulted from one matchlessly powerful house demanding a human sacrifice from another, less fortunate house.

Ursa's own betrothal had been of the sacrificial kind, and so everyone assumed that she had been forced into it, kicking and screaming. While she had not been thrilled to sign her life away to the royal family, she could not say that she detested the very thought of her future as a married woman. In fact, once Prince Ozai had given her his ultimatum, she had never missed a monthly visit to her betrothed. As she had become more and more fascinated by her fiance, her visits became weekly. By the time her family had left for Ember Island, she had come by the palace nearly every day.

"I'm content with my destiny," Ursa finally said, firmly, as her cousins looked up from their mats. "And I have not been shaming my family by toying around with other men."

Sai made an apologetic face. "Ursa, really-

"We didn't mean-" Imir began.

"We don't blame you for wanting some freedom," Sai cut in. There was a beat of silence, which was broken by Sai's sly grin. "I heard that your secret lover is very handsome, anyway-"

In a rare fit of temper, Ursa took off her straw hat and slapped it against the sand; the tiny granules jumped onto her mat and increased her irritation. Sai's words ended in a squeak and her cousin's exclamation drowned even that out. "I have no secret lover, Sai! I am in love with Prince Ozai!"

The young ladies sat back, realizing that Ursa's declaration had come out as a shout. Even as she realized this, a passing woman shouted back, "You aren't the only one, sweetheart!" The woman's friends agreed, laughing guiltily and tossing their hair.

Sai wore a very unladylike gawk as she watched the women walk away, her mouth hanging open. Imir's eyes widened to the size of dragon eye fruit. Ursa blushed the color of her cousin's fiery sarong. The three girls sat another moment in shocked silence; then, as one, they burst into embarrassed giggles, falling against each other to stay sitting.

When they regained their composure, a sudden thought occurred to Ursa. She voiced it aloud, with a delicate sniff. "Well, that 'sweetheart' can just _dream on_."

Her cousins descended into another round of hysterical laughs.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: My Urzai recommendations:<strong>

**Devotion by Rebecca Hb; oneshot. (Rebecca Hb is amazing; she has great Urzai oneshots)**

**Linger by Hermonthis; oneshot.**

**One Moment by Simply Christian; oneshot; it's more of a royal family fic.**

**The Kite-Flying Woman of the Dragon's Teeth by Becca Stareyes; oneshot. (long title, epic story)**

**Verisimilitude by BananaSwirl; oneshot. (I can't remember, but I think it's AU)**

**There you go, although that is not a comprehensive list. :)**


	10. The Rolled Parchment

**Author's Note: This is another experimental chapter; I'm playing around with the epistolary form of story-telling, which is, of course, the movement of plot through letters written from one character to another. Guess who's writing to one another, here? :) This seemed like an effective way to convey the passage of time without having an individual chapter for every month or week. **

**Also, I figured out a way to explain some of the dynamics of the royal family. And, naturally, I added a few dynamics of my own. **

**Songs: **

**Paradise by Coldplay .com/watch?v=cyoXP3w7dp4 (tranquil and somewhat mind-numbing)**

**My Father's Father by The Civil Wars .com/watch?v=4FHPFcYAQHU (wonderful band, meaningful lyrics)**

**Enjoy!**

10.

_Dear Prince Ozai,_

_ I hope everything is well at the capital. I have heard from some of my friends that Prince Iroh has been sent on a campaign to the Earth Kingdom-I hope it isn't anything serious. Who is watching Lu Ten while he is gone? Not that awful Mira? She was so rude, the last time I saw her. _

_ The summer has been very long; longer than most, it seems. My family has been on vacation for almost a month. To be honest, it's rather dull. I can only lay out on the beach for so long, you know. Nothing ever happens here, except for the occasional play or street performance. That's why I don't have much to write. _

_ Speaking of plays, I did love 'Love Amongst the Dragons'; that was The Ember Island Players' current play, and the highlight of my week. It is such a tragic story! I cry through the third act every time. Of course, you don't like plays, so you probably don't care. But, knowing you, my prince, you would find your own entertainment, and drag me along for the ride. _

_ Has the Firelord given you your new commission, yet? Wasn't he supposed to establish you in a post with the home guard? You may hate me for saying this, but I hope you're saddled with a nice, easy position on a minor island. I have no desire to see you go off to war; I don't care if it is the province of our nation, it does not have to be yours. You may call me selfish-I am selfish. But when it comes to you, my dear Ozai, I will accept that label._

_ Don't mind me. I have to worry about something! And be sure to write me, soon. I expect to see a messenger hawk landing on my windowsill any day, now. _

_ Your Servant,_

_ Lady Ursa, Princess Betrothed_

* * *

><p><em>Dearest Ursa,<em>

_ My servant? You are not my servant, my dear. As if I would ever marry a maid. I never want to see _that_ salutation, again. _

_ Anyway, to address the issue of Iroh (and he is quite a large one, isn't he?): yes, he has been sent to war. Father knows he is too valuable on the war front to be left at home with his son. Lu Ten cries every night; it's sticky and painful for all of us. I do try to spend some time with him, but we don't have much in common. Our title as Fire Prince is about the only thing we share. _

_ The woman taking care of him is named Nim; Iroh replaced Mira after she spanked Lu Ten so harshly he couldn't sit down for days. Personally, I feel like her punishment should have been much worse than a swat on the wrist and an unemployment notice-servants should never mistreat their royal charges. _

_ Ember Island: what is there to say about it? Where should I start, with the bland color of the sand, the bland flavor of the people, or the bland activities that everyone insists are entertaining? Well, perhaps that is a little harsh. I have not been there in five years. However, it doesn't sound like you are faring much better than I would on such a vacation. If you're really that bored, my dear, then I suggest that you come back to the capital and be bored with me, instead. _

_ I have seen 'Love Amongst the Dragons' here in the palace. When my mother was still alive, some traveling actors would always come through in the fall and put on a show for us. You may be surprised to know this, but my father actually likes that play. He's a great admirer of tragedy. _

_ Ah, yes, speaking of my father: no, he has not given me a commission, and I doubt he ever will. My bending teachers have always told him that I do not have the appropriate temper for the battlefield, and he believes them (for some odd reason). I must admit, Ursa, it makes me angry-I have the wrong temper for battle, but _Iroh_ is a celebrated commander? How does that make any sense? Don't bother answering; it doesn't. _

_ If you are selfish, I am some kind of monster. But I appreciate your sentiment. _

Your _Servant,_

_ Ozai_

* * *

><p><em>My Dear Fiance,<em>

_ You really raised the bar on our correspondence, didn't you? I tried to maintain some measure of formality, at least. But I suppose I cannot gainsay the prince, so I'll reciprocate and say-_

_My Dearest Ozai,_

_ 'Dear' seems like a term reserved for old married couples to call one another. I would much prefer to be called, 'Darling', or, 'Heart's Desire', if you can stomach it. _

_ Life goes on at our beach house. My cousins flirt with more and more boys as each day goes by. It's getting ridiculous: I can hardly turn around without tripping over some poor lovesick man. _

_ I did find a beautiful shell on the shore the other day-I will tie it to the messenger hawk's talon, and if it's not there, you will know it got lost somewhere along the way. You can consider it payment for the lightning flower you sent me, which is now resting in my bowl of incense on my cosmetics table. _

_ I think I cried just a little myself, when you wrote to me about Lu Ten. I hate to imagine him feeling alone without his father. As to your excuse about not having anything in common-and, yes, I am calling it an excuse, because we both know that's what it is-Lu Ten does not need anything in common with you, Ozai. He just wants to spend time with you. He worships the ground you walk on. _

_ And you were right to be angry at Mira. How could she punish Lu Ten so cruelly? He is the sweetest little boy I have ever met! And I know he did nothing to deserve that sort of treatment. If I had been there, I would have made sure she never found servants' work again on the whole main island. _

_ There! Enough scolding. I do sound like an old married woman, when I go on like that. _

_ Don't be disappointed about the commission, Ozai. Something better is sure to come along, soon. Perhaps politics is more your arena? You have such a ready wit; you can make anyone laugh. Do you remember that time when you got the entire garrison of elite guards laughing so hard that they nearly blew up their training yard? I don't know if I have ever seen a funnier sight. _

_ You are not a monster! What a thing to say! I couldn't love a monster, my prince. There's proof for you. _

_ Write Back Soon,_

_ Ursa_

* * *

><p><em>My Lovely Fiance,<em>

_ I can bring myself to call you 'Darling,' but 'Heart's Desire?' It's true, but I think I might burn my face off from blushing if I forced myself to write it down. _

_ Speaking of burning-I must tell you. The most phenomenal thing happened yesterday. I took your advice (if it was advice, and not just pointless scolding) and managed to convince Nim to let me take Lu Ten with me to a meeting with the heads of the militia. _

_ Before you start to worry about the little prince's innocent ears, I'll have you know: we were only discussing logistics. Logistics is, as you know, the science of moving troops and supplies over land. It was perfectly harmless and boring. _

_ When the official meeting adjourned, the conversation turned to bending; more specifically, specialized bending. I told General Ling that I had managed to create lightning nearly seven years ago, when Iroh first taught me the technique. I haven't tried it since. There never was any need to know how to bend lightning, and that one episode with my father and my would-be assassin put me off the idea. _

_ General Ling does not take 'no' for an answer, my love. She is a woman that commands respect from everyone, and she all but insisted that I try lightning. Then, of course, Lu Ten got involved and started begging me to show him how to do it. I couldn't exactly refuse, could I? I would have embarrassed myself in front of nine generals!_

_ So, I stood, and thought back to what Iroh had taught me. I could remember every move in the form; I still practice it, but until this moment I had not tried to separate the positive and negative energies. I was afraid that I would fail in front of the entire counsel of the militia. I knew that I could not fail, so I concentrated as though my life depended on it. _

_ I did not remember how _forceful _my lightning is. Once I felt the energies separate, the lightning just sort of poured out of me. If I had been a little less quick, I think I might have deep fried half the counsel (my father might have thanked me for that, depending on which side I aimed for). As it was, I got my hands up in time and shot the entire mass at the far wall. Needless to say, it blew out the windows, the paintings, and some of the wooden paneling. _

_ I doubt General Ling will ever ask for another demonstration. After all, we had met inside her division's headquarters. _

_ And, even better news-I think Ling plans to put in a good word with father about my assignment to a real guard post. I guess my lightning impressed her. _

_ Did I read correctly, my darling? You want me to go into politics? Strange, but I thought that, being a prince, I had already been introduced into that arena. And, yes, I remember that instance with the guards. I remember getting an hour-long speech from my father about keeping a respectable distance between soldiers and royalty. _

_ If you will stop calling yourself selfish, Ursa, then I shall never call myself a monster again. _

_ Yours,_

_ Ozai_

_-Oh, and about those 'poor, lovesick' men: I hope none of them are lovesick over _you_. I can certainly give them something to feel poor and sick about, if they are. _

* * *

><p><em>My Heart's Desire,<em>

_ There, I said 'Heart's Desire'; it's easy, Prince Ozai. You should try to give me some hopelessly romantic title next letter. _

_ Your comment about the boys made me laugh, but I want to reassure you that none of them presents any competition for you. Violence is not always the answer, anyway. You could dance circles around any of them with your sarcasm alone. _

_ There's not much to report, except a new address. My family is leaving Ember Island. We should be on Scythe Island in two days. I'm sure you know where I shall be staying, since there is only one hospitality house on the whole isle. My father has business there, and my mother has a deep craving for their sweet rolls that cannot be sated. _

_ My cousins are returning to the capital this week; I told them to send my regards to a certain prince, but to keep their hands to themselves. Just in case, be sure you practice that lightning-make it very precise, my love. _

_ Has Lu Ten stopped crying, now that you're spending more time with him? I do hope so. When I think about my poor little prince sitting up at night, wishing for his father, I feel a strong urge to pack my things and go straight to the palace. I could never replace Prince Iroh as a companion to Lu Ten, but I could alleviate some of his loneliness. I can play all sorts of children's games. _

_ Oh, did you think I meant you, when I said, 'Poor little prince?' You are neither poor nor little, my love. I would say, 'My big, strong prince' if I referred to you. _

_ Speaking of princes: I must confess, I shouted out loud when I read your account of the lightning bending. I woke Sai and Imir in the the next room. I got your letter at supper, but I only had the opportunity to read it after everyone went to bed. I have never felt so uncomfortable as when I open a letter with my cousins leaning over my shoulder, drinking in everything you've written. I feel like I am sharing my fiance with them! _

_ Remember, if they try anything funny-lightning! _

_ Please, Ozai: you are a man, and that is all. I will forever refrain from calling anyone selfish again if it makes you happy. As long as you stop saying the word, 'monster.'_

_ Keep Me In Your Thoughts,_

_ Ursa_

* * *

><p><em>My Love,<em>

_ I had a feeling that you would like this comb; Iroh sent it from the Earth Kingdom. I hope you like it; it's a little too green, for my taste. But, then again, I'm not a woman. _

_ Ozai_

* * *

><p><em>Ozai-<em>

_ I love the comb! Tell Iroh 'thank you', and to be careful out in that dangerous territory!_

_ Love,_

_ Ursa_

* * *

><p><em>Ursa,<em>

_ I don't thank anyone for anything, really, but for you I will make an exception. _

_ Iroh can't be reached by messenger hawk, at the moment; he just engaged a contingent of Earth Kingdom troops with half of his forces. Oh, but don't tell anyone; their location is a secret._

_ Ozai_

* * *

><p><em>Darling,<em>

_ You're so silly. You've thanked my dozens of times. I think you just forget all the nice things you've done, and only focus on the things that make you an impressive, intimidating prince. _

_ Love,_

_ Ursa_

* * *

><p><em>My Love-<em>

_ Why have you not written to me? It has been a long week without a letter. _

_ Love,_

_ Ursa_

* * *

><p><em>Ozai-<em>

_ Is something wrong? You never go this long without writing to me. Please, send me at least a sentence or two. I'm getting worried. _

_ Ursa_

* * *

><p><em>Prince Ozai,<em>

_ As your fiance, I must insist that you inform me about your situation. I will not be able to sleep if you don't. _

_ Lady Ursa_

* * *

><p><em>Ursa-<em>

_ I'm sorry that I have not written to you, but I haven't been able to rest for a week. Something very critical to our nation has occurred in the Earth Kingdom. I have barely even slept. _

_ Iroh has been wounded in battle. he was caught by the shrapnel of one of our own bombs, as it was thrown backwards by an Earthbender. I felt that I should tell you this myself, before you hear it from your gossiping friends. It is serious enough that my father summoned me and told me to be ready to train as Lu Ten's regent. _

_ Commander Jeong Jeong has been sent to replace Iroh on the frontlines. He is the only officer on the continent close to Iroh's age and intelligence. _

_ Iroh is still too wounded to move, but the elite guard has been assigned to escort him back to the capital for recovery as soon as he is able. I have been reassured that the army remains strong and that we shall continue to press on into the Earth Kingdom. I don't know why anyone thought that would reassure me, or why they thought I needed reassurance. _

_ I don't know what else to say, Ursa; and, truly, I don't know what to do. Lu Ten has not eaten for days. _

_ Ozai_

* * *

><p><em>Ozai-<em>

_ My parents have given me permission to travel to the palace. I will leave for the capital on the next barge. _

_ Ursa_

* * *

><p><em>Ursa-<em>

_ There's nothing you can do; you might as well stay where you are, for now. The palace is in chaos, and I have been called away to an endless string of meetings. I've gotten just a taste of what my father goes through on a regular basis. _

_ Don't feel as if my letter was a call for sympathy, Ursa. I would rather you stay with your family until things are less turbulent in the capital._

_ Ozai_


	11. The Fiery Wall

**Author's Note: And here, once again, we have a chapter that doesn't really tie in at all to Urzai! XD I gues that's not true; it does involve Ozai, so it's connected. I tried to explore another facet of the royal family in this chapter: the little matter of broken communication between father and son. **

**Based on some of my reviewers' comments, I feel like I might be misrepresenting my goal with this story. The goal was really not to make Ozai more likeable (although I consider that kind of an act of Hercules, considering I tried to keep him in-character). The goal was to portray Urzai in just one of many-probaby hundreds-of ways it could be portrayed. I guess that, by writing Ozai as a young, still somehwat idealistic prince, I have made him more appealing than crazy, Zuko-hating In-series Ozai. This chapter is probably going to enhance the likeable factor. But, please, don't think I'm trying to give him a free pass for all the bad things he did. I'm not. **

**Okay, rant over: enjoy!**

**Song: Can't Take Me by Bryan Adams .com/watch?v=g13zMlULFnA&feature=BFa&list=PL384BBDBCF7119BA5&lf=plpp_video (this was on repeat while I wrote; I don't know why)**

11.

"I suppose you are happy about this recent development?" Firelord Azulon's voice echoed around the chamber in increasing circles of sound.

From his position on the floor, Ozai lowered his head and said nothing.

"I don't even have to ask," Azulon continued, with a rough laugh. "You would not be a true son of the line of Sozin if you were upset about your brother's injury, would you?" When his son did not respond, he turned, pinning Ozai with a shrewd gaze. "Perhaps, you think that I disapprove of your eagerness for the throne?"

"I don't want the throne," Ozai said, and added, "My Lord." He kept his silent addition to the phrase_-"not yet"_-hanging in the air between them.

Azulon made a skeptical noise in his throat and resumed his pacing. "You have a long way to go before you could qualify for a high-ranking position in this government, Ozai." He noticed the tense set of his son's shoulders and snorted. "That is not a criticism; I would say the same for any inexperienced eighteen year-old."

"But-"

"You have the potential to be a great asset to this nation. Your ambition can be a strong point, if it allows you to live longer than three or four decades."

Ozai looked up, a dark flash thundering in his golden eyes. He looked as if he very much wanted to lash out with tools more blistering than fire: his clever words. Safely turned from his son's gaze, the Firelord smiled. Then he spoke again, injecting some venom into his words. "Don't be so quick to retort, Ozai; I am your Firelord before I am your father."

"I know that."

"You know many things, don't you?"

"I don't even know what you want me to say," Ozai said, trying to hide his growing frustration.

"Perhaps I want you to stay silent, and listen to someone older and wiser than you."

For a moment there was silence, as the elderly Firelord watched his youngest son struggle to restrain himself. Finally, Ozai nodded. "As you wish, Father."

Yes, Azulon knew, it _was_ as he wished; everything within his nation was ordered according to his wishes, except for the three things that mattered the most to him. One of them sat before him now, young, burning with a fire only a young and restless man can sustain. Azulon could recognize the flame of bottled-up youth on sight. He had, after all, been young once. Although his own youth had taken place nearly six generations before Ozai had been brought into the world, he doubted that much had changed in a youth's heart since then.

However, just because he could recall acting as insolent and sullen as his youngest child, that did not mean he could allow Ozai to remain an impatient youth forever.

"You are angry with me, Ozai," Azulon said, folding his crimson-clad arms across his chest. "You think that you are ready to go to war, and you resent the fact that you have been held back by your doddering old father in favor of your elder brother. Is that not right?"

"Not exactly," Ozai muttered.

"Speak up, boy-my ears are not as keen as they used to be."

"I said, 'Not exactly,' Father."

"I hope you said it in a much more respectful tone, the first time around."

Ozai took a deep breath, and the wall of fire snapped behind the Firelord. Azulon raised his eyebrows at his son. To take control of the ceremonial fire of the throne was a serious offense, and to snap the fire whilst the Firelord had his back to the flames bordered on suicidal. Ozai, however, did not even seem to realize that his temper could get him killed-or banished. In fact, he did not seem to realize he had caused the fire to move, at all.

Briefly, Azulon was envious of his son's raw power.

"Father," Ozai said tightly, regaining Azulon's attention, "I must respectfully ask that you tell me why you have summoned me. I don't have Iroh's depth of comprehension for mind games."

Azulon did his best not to snort. If there was a man more intelligent in the entire nation than Ozai, he deserved some kind of medal. "I did not bring you here to toy with you, Prince Ozai. I was merely dawdling in pointless conversation, like every old man does."

The Firelord chose to ignore the way his son rolled his eyes as he replied, "Forgive my presumption, My Lord."

"I will, for the time being." Snapping his heels together, the Firelord looked down at his son from his considerable height. Azulon wished, for a moment, that he could take the space opposite Ozai on the shining wooden floor; his knees had had a habit of giving out at inopportune times for years.

The Firelord also knew that he had a role to fulfill, like everyone else in the nation, and the duties of that role took priority. Ozai, who had always been the more restless of his two sons, would have demanded too much of the Firelord's time. If he had given the prince the attention he truly needed, he would have had little time for ruling the Fire Nation.

Besides, Azulon thought briskly, he had kept quite a few nursemaids from starving on the streets by producing another heir. Even in that respect, he had been serving his country.

"I have received word that Iroh cannot be moved until next week, at the earliest," Azulon said, breaking the silence that, to him, had grown stale. Ozai nodded and returned his gaze to the floor. His son's uncharacteristic subservience made the Firelord's eyes narrow. "Of course, even after he returns to the palace, he will be bed-ridden for another month. Do you know what that means?"

"Yes, My Lord," Ozai said.

"Enlighten me, Ozai."

"I must continue to serve as Crown Prince, for the time being. " Ozai kept his voice carefully blank, but Azulon could read body language as well as any Dai Li interrogator. He could see that the strain of sudden pressure and responsibility was wearing on his youngest son.

In the past two weeks, Ozai had been harrassed by generals, hustled from bed at odd hours of the night, and harangued by everyone from the hawk-keeper to the Firelord. The boy only had a moment of peace when he literally passed out from exhaustion.

On top of that, Lu Ten had attached himself to his uncle, turning up in the middle of meetings and hiding behind Ozai when the generals got angry at the intrusion. Azulon himself had heard the older prince talking himself hoarse, trying to appease the officials and comfort Lu Ten at once.

Ultimately, the blame for the interruptions was laid at Ozai's feet; the generals told him that he needed to punish Lu Ten for his insolence. The incompetency of nannies and servants was never mentioned. Men of the Fire Nation were expected to deal with their younger relatives' behavior personally, because it reflected so greatly upon their own reputation.

Azulon found it extremely interesting that, despite his repeated assurances that he would deal harshly with Lu Ten, Ozai never acted on the words. The Firelord suspected that his son's reluctance to raise a hand against the youngest prince had something to do with Azulon's own fondness for Lu Ten, but something told him that there was more to the situation than Ozai's fear of retribution.

Azulon almost felt guilty for the flash of satisfaction that ran through him as he studied his son's tight face and dark-shadowed eyes. Perhaps, after his brush with true responsonsibility, Ozai would not be so quick to jump on opportunities for power. Perhaps, after living for a few weeks in his brother's shoes, he could learn to respect Iroh just a little more.

Yes, Azulon thought dryly, and perhaps earthbenders would learn how to fly. Knowing Ozai, his son was certain that he was handling the matters of the crown prince better than Iroh ever could.

This thought prompted several sharp words. "You will be required to continue on as Crown Prince for at least another month, while Iroh makes a full recovery," Azulon said. "Do your best to represent Iroh as he would have you represent him; do not turn this temporary duty into a quest for personal glory."

"I won't, My Lord."

"Iroh is a fine prince, and his policies might be-" Azulon searched for an apt description, "-unorthodox, but they are effective. Use his tactics, and your job shall be that much easier."

"Yes, Father."

Azulon sighed at his son's toneless reply. "You have no intention of obeying my orders, do you?"

Ozai chewed on a response before saying, "No."

The Firelord swore. "Why must you be so difficult, Ozai?"

As if to prove the Firelord's point, the prince lowered his head in silence. At last, he said something, but this time the elderly ruler could not catch the words.

"I told you before to speak up, boy!"

"I am not Iroh," Ozai said, meeting his father's eyes for the first time that day. "I can't ever be Iroh. It's pointless for me to try to be like him."

The Firelord frowned at his youngest son. "I never said you had to _be_ Iroh," Azulon said, turning back to the wall of fire. "I just said you have to act like him. You're a capable boy, Ozai; I am sure you can accomplish that simple task."

And with that, the Firelord strode back up to his dais, the place where he felt in control. His son still knelt upon the floor. The old man pretended not to hear Ozai's final whisper.

"But, I _can't_."


	12. The Sodden Sandal

**Author's Note: I'm back! After a very stressful week, which is followed by another stressful week! XD Oh, the things I put myself through; I think I have an Azula complex. **

**I was, as usual, unsure about this chapter. But, no one cares...**

**Song: Like the Sun by RyanDan .com/watch?v=iMpNPedVQ0s (warning: it is decliciously sappy, as are all songs with wonderful male leads)**

**Enjoy!**

12.

The rain splattered against the palace like pellets of mercury, pelting Ursa as she dashed up the grand steps. She held a thin piece of rice paper above her head in an attempt to spare her hair the indignity of a frizzy end. One of the palace guards, his face miserable in his water-logged helmet, slipped as he pulled open the smaller wooden door for the princess-to-be. Ursa caught his elbow and pulled him upright again, narrowly avoiding a fall herself by gripping the side of the palace.

"Thank you, Lady Ursa," the guard said, with a bow that flung raindrops off his armor.

Ursa wiped her face clean of the moisture and nodded in response, then dashed inside as a peal of thunder sounded out above them. "I'm sure the Firelord will understand if you take those helmets off," she called back to the guards, who seemed eager to take her encouragement as an order. Ursa smiled as the men took off their helmets, sighed in relief, and rubbed their faces on their sleeves.

All frivolity faded as Ursa made her way further into the palace; her concern for the Fire Princes rose up again in her stomach, and she forced her soaked sandals to slap harder against the floor. Throughout her harried trip to the capital, the princess-to-be had hardly slept or ate, her anxiety for Prince Iroh twisting her insides in knots. Ozai's last, sharp letter had spurred his betrothed into immediate action. Ursa knew that, if Ozai would do something as selfless as warn her against coming to the palace, the crown prince's situation was far more serious than she had imagined.

Ursa cringed when she thought of her fiance bearing the unexpected burden of his brother's seniority so quickly. When prepared, Ozai was a highly competent leader, but she worried that having to bear the weight of an older man's duties would run the younger prince into the ground. Ozia was only eighteen; anyone would agree that he was too young to assume the full responsibilities of the crown prince, who was also a general and an advisor to the Firelord.

Ursa caught herself again before her feet skid out from under her, clinging to a pillar as the rug slipped under her wet sandal. She straightened and pressed on toward the only place she knew to look for her fiance: his personal study. Unlike Prince Iroh, Ozai preferred to address matters of state in a designated area, and she figured that she would have the best luck in finding the prince there than in searching half of the palace. Both princes had their own study, of course, but had she been looking for Iroh, Ursa would have known better than to go to a confined space.

In her frequent visits to the palace, it had not taken Ursa long to realize why Iroh took so readily to the mayhem of the battlefield. If he had to remain in one place for over an hour, the older prince grew jittery and began to chatter as though his life depended upon his ability to converse about teacups, Pai Sho tiles, and any other triviality that struck his fancy. Ozai, on the other hand, could descend into a fierce silence and shut himself in a room for hours, with nothing but maps and tea to sustain him.

This role-reversal in the two princes baffled most of the nobility, but did not surprise Ursa at all. Anyone who knew the sons of the Firelord personally would attest to their opposite personalities. Iroh had the characteristics of a bright sword, whereas Ozai was more like a short, subtle knife; both were made of the same mettle, but the way they showed their steel could not be more different.

Keeping this in mind, Ursa arranged a convincing speech in her head to push aside Ozai's objections to her presence in the palace. She had learned much about her fiance from the way he interacted with his brother, and she used those experiences to rehearse a winning argument.

As she rounded another corner of the palace, Ursa started her mental list with several sensible reasons why it was smart for Ozai to have a second mind to work through his new-found problems. After all, two heads were better than one, especially when matters of state were involved. Next, she planned to point out the fact that her parents had sent her back to the capital just so she could serve the prince. She would add in the idea that her father and mother would be mortally offended if Ozai refused her company.

Keeping herself so occupied, the princess-to-be hardly noticed when she came upon the wing of the palace reserved for the Firelord's family until she saw an elite guard detach himself from a nearby wall. She started a little when the man appeared before her and gave her a sharp bow.

"Lady Ursa," the elite guard greeted her, his voice studiously bland, "I'm glad to see you. We did not know you were coming."

Ursa returned his bow with a brief one of her own. "I didn't know I was coming, either, until I boarded the barge."

"Is everything all right with your family?"

"Yes," Ursa said, "with my blood relatives. But, as you know, nothing is all right with my new family."

Something seemed to shift in the guard's face, and Ursa thought she saw the rumored devotion of the Firelord's personal defenders cross the man's brow. "You're right about that, Lady Ursa."

"Could you tell me if Prince Ozai is in his study?" asked Ursa. She felt her worry for her fiance grow with increased proximity, but she tried not to look too anxious; elite guards were notorious for reading body language, and they tended to be suspicious of anyone that was nervous.

"Prince Ozai was in his study half an hour ago," answered the elite guard. "He should be there, still." And, with another bow, he returned to his post by the wall. Ursa nodded her thanks and walked on.

When she finally reached the entrance to Ozai's study, Ursa had fixed her arguments for staying at the palace firmly in her mind. She stepped to the doorway, her chin jutted out and her shoulders back. She glided through the door as regally as possible and began to speak. "Hello, Ozai..."

Her voice caught in her throat as her eyes met a charming sight. The prince was slumped facedown at his desk, his hand fisted around a cold cup of tea, a bunch of crumpled papers cushioning his face. His other hand lay curled upon the desk, empty of cup or document. From the deep rise and fall of his shoulders, it was clear that Ozai was fast asleep.

Ursa covered her mouth to stop her giggle and leaned against the doorway, taking in the sight. Then she walked quietly to the desk and smoothed out Ozai's empty hand. He stirred at her touch. "Ursa?" Ozai mumbled, not really even awake.

"Hello, Prince Ozai," Ursa said softly. Lightly, with the tips of her fingers, she picked up stray locks of his hair and tucked them behind his ear. Her fiance stiffened slightly as he was roused from sleep.

"Hello," Ozai said groggily, then relaxed against the desk, drifting back towards dreams.

Ursa leaned down and planted a soft kiss against her fiance's black hair. "Come on, Prince Ozai, wake up for just a moment; we have to get you back to your quarters if you're going to take a nap." Ozai's response was a muffled yawn, and Ursa laughed. "You can't sleep here, darling."

"Am I asleep?"

"Yes," Ursa said, with a twinge in her heart. How could Ozai be so exhausted that he didn't even realize he had fallen asleep at his desk? How long had he been crammed into a chair, staring at accounts and reports? Reflexively, her hand camp up and stroked his hair again, with an endearing result.

"Mmmm." Ozai's contented sound and smile warmed Ursa's chest from the inside out. As his eyes drifted shut again, his face lost every shadow of worry or responsibility, leaving his usually taut face looking disarmingly young.

Ursa bent and laid her cheek against his forehead, feeling a sudden protectiveness that she had never associated with her fiance before. Ozai took pains to project an image of strength to the world; it was only when he was robbed of that image, in the vulnerable time between sleep and awareness, that she could imaginge him as someone who might need her protection.

Resting her chin on the crown of his head, Ursa laid another kiss on Ozai's hair, vowing to herself never to forget that a prince, just like any other man, possessed that small, bare window before sleep; that window of open helplessness. And, quickly, Ursa reminded herself that Ozai needed his fiance to guard that window with all of her might.


	13. The Scorched Missive

**Author's Note: I'm baaack...XD After a rather long vacation. And, oh, my, what a vacation it has been, my friends (in other words, not much of a vacation at all). **

**I would like to make a short announcement: I am going to attempt to upload quite a few more chapters of this story before August, which is when I begin a very serious part of my studies. If I do not accomplish this goal, I would like to warn everyone that updates will be very few and very far-between. I estimate that this story will take a minimum of twenty chapters to wrap up. **

**This chapter might seem a little unsatisfactory; I debated making it longer, but I opted for the short-and-sweet approach. I will leave you all to your own conclusions about the ending. **

**Song: "Endless Melody" by Clarensau .com/watch?v=6lbdz4oc_QY (such a beautiful, meaningful song...it's perfect for Urzai)**

**Enjoy!**

13.

"Look, Aunt Ursa, I found a lightning flower!"

At Ozai's fifth loud, irritated sigh, Ursa smiled and took Lu Ten by the hand. "Come on, Lu Ten; let's go look for flowers over here."

"But, we're finding lots in this flowerbed," said Lu Ten, with a frown.

"I know, but your uncle has to work on the reports to the generals, now, and we don't want to distract him."

"_Oh_," Lu Ten said, as if the heavens had suddenly parted and given him a divine revelation. "Well, here's the lightning flower," the little prince continued, in a loud whisper. His small hand uncurled to reveal a fragile, slightly crushed bloom. Ursa took it and made sure to exclaim over how lightning flowers were her very favorite, and that Lu Ten was a very thoughtful little boy.

Soon her young charge was absorbed in the search for summer blossoms, and Ursa took a moment to look back at her fiance as he sat, straight-backed and cross-legged, at a low table set out on the grass. Ozai had the tip of his calligraphy brush between his teeth, as he often did when he was deep in thought. The mannerism was one of the few uncourtly habits that Ursa found charming; it seemed terribly humorous to her that the prince of her nation would adopt it.

Ozai must have sensed her gaze upon him, for in a second he looked up and met her eyes. The smile that flashed across his face made her heart swell against her chest. Ursa smiled back and, in a fit of mischief, blew the prince a kiss. Ozai raised an eyebrow, then dipped his brush and wrote a short phrase on the palm of his hand. When he held up the decorated skin, Ursa laughed aloud as she read the message.

"But, you didn't catch it, Prince Ozai!" Ursa called, waving her own hand to illustrate.

"Allow me some poetic license," Ozai replied.

Lu Ten distracted Ursa with a bright purple flower. "I think this is a weeping lady, Aunt Ursa! Is that it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ursa said. "I'm no flower expert. If we really want to know, I suppose we'll have to ask the gardeners."

Lu Ten, in typical boy fashion, did not seem interested enough in flower taxonomy to seek out the palace gardener. Instead, he tucked the purple flower behind Ursa's ear and ran off to pick more. Ursa busied herself with weaving a crown of grass blades and short-stemmed flower buds, singing a lullaby from her father's home island. Whenever she glanced Ozai's way, all she saw was the older prince's hair as it covered her view of his face.

In the two and a half weeks that Ursa had stayed at the palace, she had hardly left her fiance's side. Most of the time, she sat in Ozai's office, reading for pleasure and only disturbing the prince at mealtimes. However, she soon realized that she would have to take a more proactive approach to helping her fiance manage his position as Regent Crown Prince. Ozai had grown frustrated at her several times for her insistence that he stop working and rest for a while. But, because she did not relent, he had obeyed her, agreeing to take a two-hour break in the palace gardens once a day.

Today, little Lu Ten had accompanied the couple as they sat out in the sunlight. Ursa had taken it upon herself to entertain Lu Ten as much as possible, keeping in mind his loneliness and anxiety over his father's condition. Lu Ten was altogether a pleasant child, easy to please and eager to please his older relatives. Ozai had left the younger prince to his own devices for several days, being mired down by the duties of the crown prince. Ursa had seen the hurt look Lu Ten wore when his uncle shooed him out of his office, and she had declared quite firmly that Lu Ten would join them in the garden for their breaks from now on.

Ozai had not objected to Ursa taking a more authoritative position in their relationship; if anything, he seemed amused by her attempts to manipulate him. Of course, that was partly because Ursa knew when she had pushed enough. She still respected Ozai as her prince and would not dream of encroaching upon the parts of his life that she knew little about. For instance: she knew nothing of the divisions of the army and navy. She knew even less about proper bending technique. These were the things about which she asked endless questions, so she could gain knowledge on how to help her prince rule his country.

At the moment, Ozai was busy with the weekly reports for the generals of the home guard. Earlier that day, he had received the reports from the commanders on the Earth Kingdom front lines and had forwarded the most pressing accounts to his father. A messenger had arrived around midday with a hawk from Commander Jeong Jeong, the officer that had replaced Prince Iroh in his Earth Kingdom campaign. Ursa had watched Ozai's eyebrows raise and a smile cross his face.

When she had asked, he had simply told her that Jeong Jeong had managed to do in two weeks what no other commander had done in four years. Jeong Jeong had struck a path through the heart of the Earth Kingdom, occupying several frontier villages and securing a crucial town in the middle of the massive country. Ozai himself had delievered that particular piece of news to the Firelord.

The sun shone down on the Fire Prince's night-black hair, distracting Ursa as she took a seat on the grass. Lu Ten ran up to her and stuck another purple flower in her hair. "Thank you," Ursa said, with a giggle. "That looks lovely, I'm sure." Lu Ten smiled happily in response.

"Prince Ozai!"

Ozai stood as the watch guard ran up, planting himself at the prince's feet with a low bow. "What is it?"

The guard presented Ozai with a scroll. "Sir, I have just received this from the elite guard at Shengbing."

"Shengbing?" Ursa asked, feeling a spike of uneasiness. "Isn't that where Prince Iroh is recovering?" Beside her, Lu Ten lifted his face, his wary eyes intent on his uncle's posture. Ozai nodded to answer Ursa's question, his face turning a more faint shade of pale. Ursa swallowed; she knew that elite guards would not waste parchment and a messenger hawk on a frivolous letter.

Ozai took the scroll and ripped off the ribbon with one pull. As the older prince rolled out the parchment, Lu Ten gave out a strangled noise and ran toward the garden's exit.

"Lu Ten, wait!" Ursa called. She stood still, caught between the two princes. Her heart was with Lu Ten and the terror she knew he must feel, but her rational mind told her to stay and wait for the contents of the message. After a moment, she joined Ozai as he read the brief letter.

The dreadful silence only lasted a minute or two, and then Ozai let out a loud sigh. "Iroh is strong enough to be transported to the capital," he said, folding the parchment. "He will be escorted onto the closest navy ship later this week."

"Oh, what good news!" said Ursa, her relief breaking through. She put a hand to her heart as her breath returned.

Ozai folded the parchment further, creasing its edges and lining up the corners exactly. He said nothing. Ursa strode over and laid her hand on his arm. The prince did not acknowledge her gesture; he continued to crease and fold the message until it was the size of a teabag. "This is good news," Ozai finally said, once the paper had been reduced to its smallest possible size. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he set the parchment ablaze.

Ursa watched the message burn steadily on the same palm with the calligraphy that bore this phrase: "This hand has caught Lady Ursa's kiss." As she ran to find Lu Ten, she did not let herself wonder why that image, of the flames dancing atop her own name, lingered in her mind.


	14. The Jasmine Blend

**Author's Note: This chapter turned out okay, I guess. :P But you will all be happy to see a beloved character back in action! :)**

**Song: Peace Excerpt from the A:TLA Original Soundtrack watch?v=Aolx6rlpQyk&feature=related **

**Enjoy!**

14.

When Iroh awoke from his dream-a beautiful dream, where Ruka was lying beside him, healthy and whole again-he was greeted by an ethereal sight. He blinked three times to clear his eyes of sleep, then closed them again as a sharp pain went through his ribs. He groaned, then managed to speak. "Am I dreaming again?"

"No," said a girl's pleasant voice. "You're awake, finally."

Iroh thought back to his dream; he had been in a field, and he and Ruka had been bathed in yellow sunlight. He opened his eyes again, and the world reasserted itself. There was a girl sitting before him in a bright yellow robe, and she was sitting in the sun's rays, but she was not his wife.

"Ah," Iroh sighed. "I thought that I might never see you again, my dear."

Ursa's eyes glimmered with unshed tears as she leaned forward in her chair. "Oh, Prince Iroh," she said thickly, "I had the same thought about you. We were so worried-Lu Ten has missed you so much-"

At the mention of his son, Iroh tried to sit up. With a distressed noise, Ursa took his shoulder and pushed him down again. He did his best to resist, but his atrophied muscles gave out under the light pressure. Iroh gave his sister-in-law-to-be a chagrinned smile as his body collapsed back onto the white sheets.

Ursa gave him a weak glare. "The physician says that you shouldn't get up for another week or so." Iroh could not stop the horror from crossing his face, and Ursa did not fail to catch it. "I know, it's a long time. But your wounds are still sealing themselves up, and if you move, they will rip open again."

"And how did you get allotted the role of Watchdog to the Crown Prince?" Iroh asked, shifting stiffly on the bed.

"I took the job myself," said Ursa, with a smile. "I told the physicians that I could watch over you just as well as they could."

Iroh chuckled. "Did you?"

"They couldn't argue with a future princess, now, could they?" Ursa said lightly. As Iroh moved again, she put out a hand and helped him straighten out on his bed. "Oh, Prince Iroh, you don't know how relieved I am to see you awake and alert."

"Well, Lady Ursa, you don't know how relieved _I_ am to be awake," Iroh said, with a black laugh. "That is the closest I have ever come to meeting my ancestors, and, for the time being, that's as close as I want to come."

Iroh did his best not to shudder as images of that fateful battlefield came back to him; the debris flying through the air, his men lying in pieces around him, his own blood shining like crimson metal before his eyes. Out of the many battles in which he had fought, this most recent engagement had been the worst. The rebels in the Earth Kingdom had gained a second wind with the rise of several talented earthbenders, and they fought accordingly.

The Fire Nation had resorted to covert operations into the heart of the territory to eliminate the new threats. Iroh's men had found and killed four of the renegades, but the earthbenders' followers had ambushed the Fire Nation contingent and cut them down like reeds. What had started out as a stealth mission turned into an all-out battle. Iroh had called in his reinforcements and wiped out the earthbenders' followers, but not before one lucky rebel had thrown a bomb back his way.

The last thing Iroh could recall from the battlefield was his personal guard, Kwon, dragging him out of the line of fire. He had regained consciousness when his surgeon began to set his broken ribs, and then he had promptly passed out again from the pain. Then, he had spent the next two weeks in a healer's tent, drugged with strong sleeping concoctions so that he would not undo the surgeon's work.

"I have been bedridden for a month," Iroh said aloud, hardly believing it himself. "I will be horribly out of shape!"

"I would say you had the better end of the deal," said Ursa, with a teasing half-smile. "Your younger brother has been dead on his feet for all that time, trying to uphold your place as Crown Prince."

"Ozai...?" Iroh frowned. "Father made him my regent?"

"He was eager to assume the position, my prince."

"Even so, Firelord Azulon should not have given him that much power." Iroh put his hands behind his head, his expression thoughtful.

Ursa's hands had gone stiff upon the bedclothes. "You do not think Ozai is capable of doing your job?"

The wounded prince looked up at his future sister-in-law, surprised to see the coldness that had settled so quickly over her eyes. "Ozai is perfectly able to execute any task set before him," he said hastily. "But, he is too young, Lady Ursa; he wasn't prepared for that much responsibility." When Ursa still looked unconvinced, Iroh took her hand in his. "Believe me, being the Crown Prince of the greatest nation in the world is not a gift; it is a burden. And, while I am proud of Ozai for doing his duty, I wish he could have been excused from that burden a little longer."

"I understand," Ursa said, relaxing. "Forgive me for taking offense, Prince Iroh."

"I keep forgetting that you and Ozai will soon be married," Iroh confessed. "I should know to watch my words around such a loyal fiance."

"You said nothing that should have given me offense," Ursa said, with a blush. "I suppose I am just a little defensive, lately." She bent close to speak in Iroh's ear, "Prince Ozai has been heavily criticized for the way he handles your affairs."

Iroh pulled back. "Oh? By whom?" Ursa bit her lip and said nothing. By her silence, Iroh received his answer. "Ah," he said, "by my father, of course."

"The Firelord can be very demanding," Ursa said. She cast a frightened look toward the doorway, as though she expected one of the Firelord's advisors to be standing there, drinking in her words. "Prince Ozai hasn't eaten a decent meal in days."

Iroh studied the worry lines between Ursa's eyebrows and knew that Ozai was not the only one hounded by the duties of the Crown Prince. Ursa was a conscientious noblewoman, incredibly attuned to the rules and expectations of her station. At times, Iroh wondered if Azulon had been advised by one of Ursa's relatives who convinced him that she would make an ideal princess. That would explain the Firelord's interest in her as a wife for Ozai.

Watching the way the future princess sat, proper and collected, by his sickbed, Iroh knew that she and Ozai would become a force to be reckoned with, once they were united through marriage. Their minds were keen, and their personalities were diverse enough to create harmony.

Before he could ponder the matter further, a little voice disrupted Iroh's train of thought. "Dad!"

"Lu Ten!" Iroh cried, ignoring Ursa's restraining hand and sitting up to open his arms wide.

With an excited laugh, Lu Ten raced through the door and bounced onto the bed, fixing his arms around Iroh's chest. "You're home, you're home!" Lu Ten said, breathless with happiness. "I missed you so much, Dad!"

Iroh could not respond, the tightness in his throat too strong to overcome. He buried his face in his son's hair, hoping the dark mass would hide his tears from his sister-in-law. "Lu Ten has been waiting all day to see you, Prince Iroh," he heard Ursa say.

"Is that so?" Iroh asked, with a smile.

"Yes," Lu Ten nodded, "and Uncle Ozai is coming, too! And, he's bringing tea, Dad!"

Iroh's heart lifted at the thought. He had missed the soothing taste of evenly-brewed tea; he had only been given second-grade, rough tea while on the frontline. He had stopped packing his own private stock when a snide officer had commented on how the prince could not be seen drinking from the same tea pot as his "inferiors." It seemed like his tongue could already feel the pleasant sensation of palace tea trickling down his throat.

"Tea does sound lovely, doesn't it?" Ursa remarked.

"My brother does know me well," Iroh said, looking up from Lu Ten's hair. "There is nothing on this earth that I would appreciate more at the moment than a good cup of jasmine tea."

"I don't suppose you appreciate the fact that I came to see you," Ozai said dryly, from his place in the doorway. He bowed carefully to Iroh, who rolled his eyes and waved his younger brother into the room. Ozai set the tray in his hands onto the narrow table at the foot of Iroh's bed.

"Tea!" Lu Ten said happily, jumping off the bed. Ozai held back the little boy while he prepared the cups. The youngest prince waited impatiently as his uncle poured the tea, then took a steaming cup and carried it to his father. "Drink it, Dad; it's delicious, I'm sure!"

"Thank you, son." Iroh took a sip, then sat back as he relished the savory mouthful. "This is the most fragrant tea I've had in months, he said truthfully. Lu Ten beamed.

Ozai shrugged. "It's just common palace tea, although I did make sure the servants strained it twice."

"And he made certain they used the Ember Island jasmine blend," Ursa added quietly, a smile dancing like a sunbeam across her face. Ozai's answering smile was so small a less observant man would have missed it.

Iroh did not thank Ozai for the tea; his brother would deny that he had gone to any trouble to bring him the one home comfort for which he had longed. And, if he was honest with himself, Iroh knew that he did not want to feel any more indebted to Ozai. Ozai had, according to Ursa, done his best to uphold his elder brother's reputation. For a brother who resented Iroh's age, fame, and favor, Ozai had behaved in a most honorable manner.

Ursa and Lu Ten sat together on one side of Iroh's bed and Ozai sat on the other, each with a warm serving of tea. They regaled Iroh with some of Lu Ten's recent mishaps, including an incident involving mud and the youngest prince's best robes. Ursa smiled freely while she conversed, but Ozai's expression struck Iroh as more reserved than usual. Hesitancy had never been a hallmark of his younger brother, but that was the impression Iroh received from Ozai's posture.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Iroh wondered whether Ozai had taken on the title of Crown Prince too easily. He wondered if, perhaps, he mistook reluctance for hesitancy. Encircling his fingers fast around his tea, he pushed the insidious thoughts from his mind and let the warm steam waft over his face.

"Remember, Lu Ten," Iroh said, "that there are only three things in this world that truly matter: honor, family, and tea."


	15. The Hidden Rock

**Author's Note: And, in other news, I am now CPR certified! XD I'm sure you wanted to know that.**

**This chapter seems too out of place for me; I'm pretty sure I'm going to remove it. :p I wrote this one out a long time ago, but I never knew where to put it. But it is kind of funny that I'm posting it this week, since I am facing a belt test in my own martial art, Taekwondo. **

**Enjoy!**

15.

Lu Ten brought his hands together into a fist, hoping the confidence in his balanced upper body would compensate for his wobbly finish. He folded his hands and went back to his ready stance, looking expectantly to his trainer for feedback.

His uncle did not comment immediately. He stood, his hand on his chin, laying a thick scrutiny upon his young nephew. Lu Ten ducked his head, feeling self-conscious; all the optimism the five year-old boy had felt at the beginning of the training session melted away the longer he remained under that golden gaze.

Finally, his uncle Ozai spoke. "Pathetic," he said, robbing Lu Ten of any hope for success. "Absolutely pathetic."

Lu Ten dropped his stance like he had been hit in the gut. "But-but, I worked really hard on that form-"

"Did you practice it fifteen times a day, for a whole week, like I asked you to?"

"Yes!" Lu Ten slumped a little more. "Well, maybe...I don't know..." He could count to fifteen, of course; he could count to forty without any problems. But he could not always remember how often he went through his firebending forms. Sometimes, it was just too boring, and he could not recall if he had gone through the moves one time or fifty times. A sudden, sensible idea occurred to him, and he blurted it out before he thought it through. "Maybe, if I could use _real_ fire-"

"What?" Uncle Ozai laughed. "You can't even get through the basic child forms, Lu Ten. You're certainly not ready for fire."

"But, maybe, if I tried-"

"No." His uncle folded his arms and gave him a level glare. "No fire until you learn control. Do it again," he said, pointing to the center of the training field, "and do it right, this time."

With a sigh, Lu Ten trudged back to his starting point. He waited, fidgeting, until his uncle gave him permission to begin. Flowing back into the form, he tried to make every kick and block count. Half-way through, however, he heard his uncle's voice call, "Stop!"

Lu Ten froze, his foot stuck out six inches above the ground. "Can I put my foot down?"

"No," Ozai said, as he strode towards the younger prince.

"Please?"

"No. Now-" Ozai seized Lu Ten's leg and guided it into a different stance, "here, you have to even out your balance more. Put more weight on your back leg." He tapped Lu Ten's back leg for emphasis, and the boy obediently shifted his weight. "If you don't learn to keep your stance even, a light breeze will knock you down."

"No, it won't," said Lu Ten, with a giggle.

"Well, maybe not a breeze," Uncle Ozai said mildly, and then, faster than lightning, his hand and foot shot out. A breath later, Lu Ten found himself lying flat on his back, his face smashed into the palm of his uncle's hand. "But any opponent will have the upper hand if you can be so easily uprooted," Ozai concluded.

"Ouch," Lu Ten said.

"Oh, get up, Lu Ten. I didn't hurt you."

The younger prince rolled back up to his feet, rubbing the spot on his back where he had made first contact with the earth. "I don't like it when you do that, Uncle Ozai," he commented, with a frown.

"Well, if you corrected your stance, I wouldn't be able to do that," said Ozai.

Since he could not argue with that answer, Lu Ten got back into his starting pose. "I'll do better this time, Uncle," he said. "I promise."

Uncle Ozai muttered something along the lines of, 'Well, it's not _my_ future we're jeopardizing with all this coddling,' but Lu Ten didn't really know what 'jeopardizing' or 'coddling' meant; he just knew that his uncle used those words a lot. He paid attention again when his uncle said, "All right, Lu Ten: begin."

Nodding, Lu Ten took a deep breath and widened his stance. He knew that he could not fail this time. His uncle had very high standards, and of all the praise that came from his bending trainers, he valued his uncle Ozai's approval the most. Even though Lu Ten's father-and even his grandfather-cautioned his trainers to go slow with the young prince, nobody ever told Uncle Ozai to slow down. Privately, Lu Ten thought that was because everyone knew Uncle Ozai was the best firebender in the _world_.

Caught up in his desire for perfection, Lu Ten did not notice the rock that had embedded itself in the sand of the training ring. As he completed the seventh move in the form, his foot stomped down hard on that sharp piece of lava stone, jabbing him through his training boot. Lu Ten lost his focus and jumped back with a yelp. His arms pinwheeled out to the sides and his feet slid in the sand.

A hand shot out and grabbed the back of his tunic before he could fall. "What a waste of time," Uncle Ozai said angrily, yanking Lu Ten back to his feet. "What happened? Did you trip over your own feet? Are you that clumsy?"

Lu Ten was humiliated; he looked down, tugging at the end of his tunic. "There was a rock," he mumbled, pointing at the lump with his foot. "I stepped on it, and it poked me-"

Uncle Ozai picked up the rock and threw it as far as he could; it bounced off the side of the palace. "There: no more rocks. Now, do it again, and if you can't complete the form with a semblance of concentration, you will be dropped back to the Smiling Lily form." At Lu Ten's horrified look, Ozai nodded grimly. "Yes, Lu Ten, that _is_ the form for babies."

"But, I'm not a baby!" Lu Ten said, outraged.

"Prove it! Do this form correctly!" When Lu Ten stood uncertainly a moment longer, Ozai barked, "Now!"

"Yes, sifu," Lu Ten muttered mutinously, looking for any other wayward rocks as he tramped back to the center of the ring. "I couldn't help it," he told himself miserably, "it was a rock! Uncle Ozai would have jumped, too, if he had stepped on a rock!" He waited a minute to start the form, checking for any other items buried in the sand.

Ozai sighed. "I'm waiting, Lu Ten!"

"Yes, sifu Uncle!"

His uncle put a hand to his forehead. "Oh, brother."

"You called?"

Ozai groaned out loud, but Lu Ten beamed at the familiar voice. He dropped his stance and ran toward his father. "Dad!"

"Hello, son!" Iroh called, grinning from beside a very put-out Uncle. "How is he coming along?" he asked Ozai, as he winced a little at Lu Ten's boisterous hug around his ribs.

"I stepped on a rock." Lu Ten had always been taught that it was better to admit a mistake ouright rather than avoid it.

"He did step on a rock," Uncle Ozai said, with a scowl, "but that's not the problem. The trainers are not making him concentrate, Iroh. Lu Ten should be capable of the Bright Fire forms, by now, but he can't even complete this basic child form!"

"Very few five year-olds are ready for Bright Fire, my brother," Iroh said, ruffling his son's hair as Lu Ten sighed in discouragement. "You were an exceptional child, Ozai; not every firebender can produce flames at three years old."

"I know that," Ozai said, "but Lu Ten could have. I _know_ he's capable. He is just not being pushed hard enough-he's too lazy."

Despite the fact that he had just been called lazy, Lu Ten felt warmth diffuse through his small body at his uncle's words. Uncle Ozai thought he was a good firebender. Nothing else mattered, in that moment, but that knowledge.

"I'll try harder," he said. "I'll train more-I'll do my forms _sixteen_ times a day!" He thought that was quite a concession, all things considered.

He thought he saw his uncle's mouth twitch up at the corners, but his father's next words chased it away. "No," Iroh said firmly, "I will not have my son spending hours every day, training in an art he won't even use for another twelve years."

"But, Dad-!"

"No," his father said again, sounding just like Uncle Ozai. "You may train for two hours every other day, Lu Ten, and that is all. The rest of the time, you are going to be a little boy."

"He can do both, you know," said Ozai. "He can train and still be a child."  
>"I am not so sure," Iroh said.<p>

Lu Ten watched his uncle's eyes narrow. "I managed."

"Did you, Ozai?" Iroh put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Go on and finish your forms, Lu Ten; then, we can have some tea together." With a quick bow to his father, Lu Ten raced toward the center of the training ring.

"No." Uncle Ozai put out a hand and stopped him cold.

Lu Ten looked up, confused. "Why not? I promise, I can do it-"

"I am Lu Ten's current trainer," Ozai told Iroh, curling his fingers around his nephew's shoulder till Lu Ten squirmed. "That means that I teach Lu Ten however I see fit, or I don't train him at all."

Iroh raised his eyebrows. "I am his father, Ozai! I can negate orders from his sifu!"

"Of course you can, if you want to find another master." Uncle Ozai released Lu Ten's shoulder and stepped away, picking up his outer robes from their place on a bush. "You know it's no skin off my nose whether or not he learns those forms, Iroh," Ozai said, shrugging back into his crimson mantle. "In the end, it will only be Lu Ten who suffers for bad technique."

"Lu Ten has plenty of time to refine his bending," Iroh said. He patted his son reassuringly on the head, then continued, "He doesn't have to learn from you, Ozai. There are plenty of other accomplished benders in the capital who would be happy to train him, if you aren't."

Lu Ten hopped from one foot to the other, his young mind feverishly at work, prioritizing and categorizing. He wanted to learn how to bend just like Uncle Ozai-and he wanted to learn how to bend lightning, too-but he knew his uncle's proficiency came only from hard work. Lu Ten had seen his uncle out on the training fields every morning for as long as he could remember; that was why Ozai insisted that Lu Ten walk through his forms every day.

On the other hand, Lu Ten wanted to please his father, as well, and his father did not seem pleased about Uncle Ozai's teaching methods. As he watched his uncle's stiff posture, Lu Ten wondered why Ozai always turned so rigid whenever his father came around. In contrast, Iroh seemed at ease, unconcerned by Ozai's disapproval. "Very well, then," Lu Ten's uncle said, turning away. "Ruin his chances of becoming a truly great bender; see if I care!"

Lu Ten gasped. He knew his uncle was serious. When Uncle Ozai said something, he meant it; if he said he was finished with training his nephew, he was good and finished.

"Wait!"

Uncle Ozai paused at Lu Ten's shout. Scrambling forward, Lu Ten tackled his uncle, flinging himself onto the older prince's crimson-covered legs. "I'll train hard, Uncle Ozai," he panted, "I'll listen to everything you say, just please, please, _please_ don't stop training me!"

His uncle frowned down at him. "Look, Lu Ten-"

"I can have my nursie count my forms for me," Lu Ten interrupted him, desperate to get his point across. "And I'll do my breathing practice, too! I'll do it, I promise!"

"Your father-"

"I _have_ to learn bending from you, because you're the best!"

His uncle made a bemused sound. "Well, even if that is true-"

Please," Lu Ten said, and added, for good measure, another six: "Please, please, please, please, please, _please_-"

"All right, all right!" Uncle Ozai peeled Lu Ten off of his legs. "I'll keep training you, you little brat."

"Thank you," sang Lu Ten, re-attaching himself to the older prince in a grateful hug.

"Yes, yes, you're welcome," Ozai said gruffly, patting him sporadically on the back. "But, you do need to ask your father for permission."

Lu Ten turned to look at his father, but he didn't relinquish his hug on his uncle. "Please, Dad?"

"I don't think I can argue with that face of yours," said Iroh in resignation. "Yes, Lu Ten, your uncle is free to train you all he wants."

"Thank you!" Lu Ten said, with a smile. He ran over and gave his father a hug, too. "I'll make you happy, Dad!"

"You already make me happy, son," Iroh said, and wrapped Lu Ten in an even tighter embrace. "But you will make me proud with your dedication, I'm sure," he added, with a wink. "Otherwise, your uncle will most likely beat you into the ground."

"No, I won't," said Ozai huffily. "He _is_ my nephew, Iroh. I am not going to kill him."

"I know you, Ozai-"

"If you're talking about Fu Min, that was one time, and I was fourteen!"

Lu Ten had no idea to what instance the two princes were referring; in truth, he didn't really care. In his own childish bliss, he raced off around the training ring, running for the sheer joy of movement. In the background, he could hear his father and uncle still bickering about Fu Min, but when he looked back, they were both smiling slightly.

Shrugging, Lu Ten went on with his game. He hoped that, someday, he would understand the way his father and uncle behaved. But, somehow, he doubted he ever would.


	16. The Scarlet Robe

**Author's Note: Another short chapter, but I'm happy with its length. (Don't tell anyone, but this is mostly filler until we can get to the next update *shifty eyes*) I made myself pound this one out before I disappear for a week. But, believe me, you guys will be very pleased with the next chapter! Or, at least, I hope you will...**

**I would like some feedback on the portrayal of the characters in this chapter. Are they in-character enough for your taste?**

**Song: Bring On the Wonder by Susan Enan watch?v=zb0x4_2xocY (Urzai is so mournful, which is why this song is perfect)**

**Enjoy!**

16.

Rain was dropping softly across the Fire Palace lawns, filling up the ornamental ponds and brightening the leaves on the fruit trees. The sparkling raindrops formed an uneven curtain across the eaves of the east wing, falling onto the terrace steps with sporadic certainty.

Ursa sat with her back to her open bedroom door, her knees drawn to her chest as she watched the rain. Her own tears had dried an hour before, but she still felt their tracks on her cheeks. She had not bothered to clean her face of the salty residue.

The last day of her visit to the palace had been horrible. Before she had even eaten breakfast, she had gotten into a messy argument with Ozai, who had protested her departure with every persuasive bone in his body. He had been trying to convince Ursa to remain at the palace until their wedding, which was a few short months away. Ursa had patiently explained that, while she would have loved to stay until their marriage, she had to return to her parents for her last months as a single woman. Although they had both tried to remain level-headed, their talk had descended into a verbal fight in less than ten minutes. Prince Iroh had only made it worse when he and Lu Ten had walked in to join the couple for breakfast; he had immediately taken Ursa's side. Ozai had stood and left the room in a high temper.

Ursa had not recovered from that disastrous morning. She had offended one of the elite guards by shouting at Prince Iroh, she had reduced Lu Ten to tears and, to top it all off, she had been caught in the late summer storm as she stood outside, trying to regain her composure. In other words, she had ruined her last day at the palace, and it had forced her to hide in her room and cry for over an hour.

No one could see the future princess as she sat desolately beneath the palace eaves. Her pale face was worn by her stressful day, and her elegant robes had come undone at their closure. The rich red of her kimono had parted at the belt's golden knot, the thin, ivory undergarments exposed to the humid air. Contrasted with her dark hair and eyes, the red and off-white rendered the yong woman as a portrait of tragic beauty.

Ursa did not feel beautiful in the slightest; she felt old and unwanted. Perhaps it was the strain of the last few weeks, but, as she stared at the refreshing spouts of rain at her feet, she began to wonder if she had been a fool to accept the fate the Firelord had given her. Did she truly have what it took to be a princess of the Fire Nation? Or was she worthless, as all her childhood nemeses had told her? Would she embarrass her family and her husband? Was Ozai better off with another, prettier, more clever wife?

Yes, Ursa thought morosely, a prince like Ozai needed a spouse as different from herself as wind from earth. His ideal wife would be reserved where Ursa was open, dignified where she was bashful, and forceful where she was shy. She could never be like Ruka, Iroh's wife-so effortless among the courtiers that everyone assumed that she was born to become royalty. No, she was not like Ruka, at all.

As Ursa sank further into her raincloud mood, she felt more tears slip out of her eyes. Frustrated at herself, she used her sleeve to dry her tears, then shrugged off her outer robe in disgust. She was not fit to wear the colors of royalty, she thought darkly, if she couldn't keep herself from crying like a child.

The rain picked up again, pattering above her in a steady rhythm. Incidentally, the increased noise dampened the footsteps that tread across her bedroom floor. Ursa did not sense the presence behind her until a warm hand laid itself against her hair. Startled, the future princess shrank away from the touch and looked over her shoulder.

"Oh, no," Ursa said, turning back to the rain, "don't look at me. I'm all ugly from crying."

Ozai said nothing, but his fingers slid to the side of her face, lightly stroking her cheek. Ursa closed her eyes and swallowed, doing her best not to let any more tears fall. Of course, when fortitude really mattered, it failed her; her shoulders began to shake. She hid her face in her knees and let out small, strangled sobs.

"Ursa," Ozai said. He knelt beside her and took her hands in his, which only made her cry harder. "Ursa," the prince repeated, sounding impatient, "don't tell me that this is about our argument this morning?" When she didn't answer, he sighed. "If it is worth anything to you, I had forgotten about it until you didn't show up for tea this afternoon."

"Please go away, if you're only going to say something cold like that," Ursa said harshly, with a sad hiccup. "I can't stand it when you-"

She was silenced by a kiss from her prince. "I said, I had forgotten about the argument," Ozai said firmly, "_not_ that I had forgotten about _you_."

"Well, thank you for making that distinction," Ursa said, rather haughtily.

To her dismay, Ozai laughed. "Are you really going to spend your very last hours here sulking in your room?" He placed another kiss on her lips, lingering in the way that could drive a woman mad. "That is very unlike you, my dear," Ozai whispered in her ear.

Ursa pulled back and gave her fiance a hard look. "Why are you treating me like this?" she asked. "Are you making fun of me?" Her heart twisted at the thought.

"Why would I make fun of you, Ursa?"

"I look ugly, right now," Ursa explained, as yet more tears squeezed out of her eyes. "I look old, and my eyes are puffy-"

"Do you think I'm that shallow?" Ozai said, with a tinge of disdain. "I would be an idiot if I didn't know what a woman looks like when she cries. Do you think that will scare me off, Ursa, because you cry every so often?"

"You never do," Ursa whispered, picking at a thread on her robe.

"We're different from each other," Ozai answered.

"Are we too different to be happy together?"

They both froze at the miserable question, the one that had the power to rend their relationship into shreds. "Why would you even say that?" Ozai said, his voice blank with shock. "Did I hurt you that badly, today? If I did, I didn't mean to-Ursa, I'm sorry-"

Ursa gazed at her fiance's face-at his wide amber eyes, at the vulnerable tilt of his mouth-and felt her dark mood collapse. "Oh, Ozai, I'm sorry!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms. "Ignore my stupidity! Just forget everything I said, today! I'm acting like a sulky little girl."

When Ozai's arms closed about her, she remembered her undressed state; her red outer robe was lying in a mass behind her, tied to her waist by one golden cord. This was the most skin she had ever shown to her fiance. As the prince's fingers tightened around her hips and shoulders, she knew that Ozai had realized this fact, as well. Ursa's breathing hitched ever so slightly, but she did not pull away. She laid her head against her prince's chest, leaving her arms around his neck.

They remained in a silence interrupted by the constant rainfall, until Ozai spoke again. "Remember," he said, in bleak humor, "that I started our argument. So, perhaps I have acted like a sulky little girl."

Trapped within his embrace, Ursa could only smile.


	17. The White Bouquet

**Author's Note: What? Another chapter, so soon after the last update? Is it possible? 0.o Yes, it is; I'm actually trying to speed up my progression through the story, so I wanted to get one more "filler" chapter out of the way. Starting with Chapter Nineteen, each chapter will most likely skip at least a few months of Ozai and Ursa's lives. Sometimes, I will skip several years. I want to challenge myself to make the story cohesive with those large time gaps between installments.**

**Song: The Jasmine Flower watch?v=9M4gca_uLB4&feature=related (I thought I should put another traditional Chinese folk song in here)**

**Enjoy!**

17.

_My Darling Ozai,_

_ My parents were all too happy to see me. I had not realized that my absence affected them so much; my mother cried when I got off the ship, and my father declared that he had changed his mind and that I would have to wait at least another year before I could marry you. Don't worry, though; he was only joking. He knows the Firelord would never let me go back on my word, now. _

_ Speaking of your family: does Lu Ten miss me? I heard that Prince Iroh has been given a month's notice, and that he will soon be back on the Earth Kingdom campaign. You will excuse me if I think that the army could afford to let him stay at home for at least six months. I think that, if we're not careful, we will lose many good men to the Earth Kingdom. We can't keep working our best soldiers this hard and expect them to remain ready and willing. _

_ But, what do I know, Ozai? I've never been a soldier. I can't even bend. I'm sure you are laughing at my naive, civilian way of thinking. Laugh all you want-it's not going to change my opinions._

_ Do you miss me? The moment I got home, I started missing you. I know this sounds silly, but sometimes I feel like we're already married and that I don't belong in my own house, anymore. That does sound a bit presumptuous, doesn't it?_

_ I'll stop writing, now, before I give away all my secrets!_

_ Love, _

_ Ursa_

_ To Loveliest Ursa,_

_ Of course I miss you-I didn't want you to go, remember? _

_ Your parents seem like strange people (no offense). If they didn't want you to marry me, they could have just said no. You're right about my father and yours; the harder your father would try to rescind the marriage, the more my father would insist that you were the only girl in the entire Fire Nation who would be a suitable bride for me (and, throughout all this, you and I would be dead of embarrassment). I do feel sorry that your mother cried, though. It sounds rather weak, but it makes me wish that I had a mother to cry over me. _

_ As for Lu Ten...Ah, Lu Ten. The little prince will not stop asking me the same question, over and over: "When is Aunt Ursa coming? Today? Tomorrow? When, when, when?" It's all I can do not to whack the poor child over the head. However, the thought of Iroh roasting me alive keeps me in check._

_ You're right about Iroh's assignment. He should be back on the warpath in less than six weeks' time. His injuries are healing rapidly, and he has already started to bend again. But, don't worry; he is taking his forms slowly, and he is going to wait for his ribs to heal before he tries any kicks or sparring. How did you find out about his new post, if it wasn't through me? _

_ You're right, I did laugh at your ideas about the war, but not because your thoughts were silly. You're absolutely right about our men: they are tired. The generals have been forced to rotate their commanders from easy to rough assignments every few months. The Earth Kingdom is putting up a good fight, as it has been for decades. And, really, that strategy works perfectly for earthbenders. If they can outlast their enemies, they can win. However, Iroh has come up with a new plan to take down their main cities and immobilize their armies. He plans to use the earthbenders' sturdy mentality against them and besiege their strongholds. In some ways, Iroh is rather like an earthbender: he is ready to sit and wait for years to bring this plan to completion. _

_ I don't have to tell you that these plans are strictly confidential, Ursa, and that you shouldn't mention this to anyone. Father will kill me-literally-if he knew that I was talking about this to a civilian. Oh, by the way-he doesn't know who your grandfather was, and I don't think we should ever tell him. Somehow, it has escaped his notice. I think the Fire Sages have been hiding it, for your sake. _

_ Write to me as soon as you can. Until then, goodbye._

_ Ozai_

_ To My Fiance,_

_ Ozai, I do take offense at your statement about my parents! They are not strange! Besides, I find that a little rich, considering how _your_ family operates. And about my father and yours: my father could not say 'no' to the Firelord, and you know it. You really shouldn't be so flippant about everything. I'm happy with my future husband, though, so I will forgive his rudeness. _

_ I wish I could have met your mother, Ozai. I think I might have, one time, when I was little, but I don't remember it very well. _

_ You know, my darling, we have known each other so long that it's hard to keep all the memories straight. That is one disadvantage to living in the capital; all the noble families know each other, and we all know everything about everyone. For example, I can tell you every detail about the Lady Hana's wedding, and I wasn't even there! It drives me crazy, sometimes. Do you ever wish that we could get married and then go far away from here? We could be governers of a colony, or something. Maybe we could live on the coast of the Earth Kingdom, away from the fighting. _

_ Are you sure the Firelord doesn't know my heritage? Surely, he looked up those records before our engagement. I doubt the Fire Sages would keep the knowledge from him, Ozai. They do, after all, report to him and him alone. They are no longer loyal to the Avatar. And, frankly, I am not ashamed of my grandfather. Roku was a good man, and he held true to his own principles. I think that is as honorable as any person can be. _

_ You know that now I will worry about Prince Iroh and his new plan. He may be a genius, Ozai, but he lacks your sense of self-preservation. I hope his guards can keep him safe on this new campaign. _

_ Tell Lu Ten that he will see me soon enough. Comfort him with the knowledge that, the next time I come to the palace, I will be coming to stay! _

_ Love,_

_ Your Ursa_

_ Ursa,_

_ I can't spend too much time on writing, today, so here is a brief note. I have also sent a rather fragrant package with this message, and I hope that the hawk can keep the whole thing from falling apart. I spoke to this particular bird about it, and he seemed capable enough. _

_ I am counting down the days until I see you again. I have already been driven insane by the royal tailors, who have an uncanny ability to trap me for fittings right when I come out of a meeting. I told them that, the next time they try to strangle me with wedding robes, I will burn my way out of the situation. I think they took the threat seriously. _

_ Ozai_

_ Dearest Ozai,_

_ Thank you for the lightning flowers! I don't know how long it took you to find enough for a whole bouquet, considering how the season is nearly over. It must have been time-consuming. But, perhaps you had a servant do it for you. Either way, I have put the flowers in a vase on my drawing table. They fill the whole room with a beautiful scent. _

_ Don't talk about wedding robes, my love; just imagining you in a set makes my heart flutter. I feel like a giddy little schoolgirl. Also, if you hurt the royal tailors before they have a chance to fit me for my robes, I will absolutely refuse to marry you._

_ I cannot write long, either, so here are my final words: _

_ White is the flower;_

_ Its center is a bright blue._

_ Lightning, its true name._

_ Love,_

_ Ursa_

_ Ursa-_

_ Poetry is fine,_

_ But I cannot write it well._

_ I prefer bending. _

_ Love,_

_ Ozai_

_ Ozai:_

_ Five, seven, then five,_

_ This is what makes a haiku._

_ It is not so hard._

_ Love,_

_ Ursa _

_ To My Poetic (and Sarastic) Fiance:_

_ Lightning flowers bloom;_

_ Indeed, I picked every one._

_ Never doubt my love._

_ Oh, that really was terrible. Isn't haiku always about nature, and harmony? It's good that princes of the Fire Nation are not required to write good poetry. My calligraphy is excellent, however. Next time, I will send you a word written in my best penmanship. _

_ Your Singularly Talentless Fiance,_

_ Ozai_

_ To My Love,_

_ If you never write poetry, you never will improve. I spent a few hours every day composing rhymes when I was younger. I am not a wonderful poet, but I am happy with my ability. I think Prince Iroh took all the talent for poetry in your family, Ozai, and you took all the talent for calligraphy. Could your mother write? Wait-can your father write?_

_ I'm sorry for pestering you with all this nonsense. I will wait to write until I have something worthwhile to say. _

_ Love,_

_ Ursa_

_ Ursa,_

_ Just admit that you have more skill in everything except bending, and we can both by happy. I will enjoy showing off my wife to all the jealous courtiers. Just don't reveal your full potential, or I will have to fight off aspiring lovers every day of the week. I would hate to have to behead so many fine men. _

_ My mother was terrible at poetry, if you can believe it. She taught me her own style of calligraphy, though. She was a firm teacher; she would forbid me to practice bending until I spent at least an hour writing out my name, the names of my family, and the names of my ancestors. _

_ I don't know from which side of the family Iroh inherited his talent. None of our close relatives can write poetry. My father can do very little in the realm of the arts. However, there is one painting of a battlefield that hangs in his study, and I am almost sure that he painted it. He never has mentioned it, and I never bring it up. _

_ Write as often as you like. It is as close to hearing your voice as I can get, for now. _

_ Love,_

_ Ozai_

_ To My Future Husband:_

_ Three weeks until our wedding!_

_ Yours,_

_ Ursa_

_ Ursa,_

_ Ten days._

_ Ozai_

_ Ozai-_

_ Only seven days until our wedding; only half a day until I see you again. _

_Your Future Wife_


	18. The Eternal Flame

**Author's Note: I am going to totally ruin the mood by saying, "Whoa, nelly!" XD This chapter is really long compared to most of the others. But, I am sure everyone will find out why as soon as they read it. Hopefully, this won't cause too many bouts of fangirling (or, um, fanboying?). **

**A note about the *ahem* ceremony portrayed in this chapter: I combined several different traditions from Chinese, Korean, and Hindu culture. Also, I just made some of it up. Anything that pertained to firebending, I created. I am rather proud of the result. **

**Song: A Thousand Years by Christina Perri watch?v=q9ayN39xmsI (it was on my Urzai playlist)**

**Enjoy!**

18.

"Relax, Ursa, it will be fine!"

Ursa could not recall how many times she had heard Imir utter that phrase, but her cousin had repeated it like a prayer for the last three days. At times, she wondered whether the constant reassurance had been for her benefit at all. During the many hours of fittings, re-fittings, honorary meals, and meetings, her two cousins had stuck by her side like a pair of pentapuses.

The moment her ship had arrived at the capital, the bride-to-be had been lifted into a palanquin, with her father and mother carrying her dowry behind her. Her other relatives had led the traditional procession through the streets, while citizens of the capital cheered and gave Ursa their blessings.

Later that day, Ursa had been introduced to the ceremonial chambers of the Fire Palace. Her parents, aunt, uncle, and cousins had been allowed to stay in some spare chambers reserved for foreign diplomats, but Ursa had been situated in the bedroom that would become her own as soon as she officially became Prince Ozai's wife.

Her chambers in the palace were unlike any rooms Ursa had ever seen. The bedroom itself was massive, but the luscious silk tapesties draping the walls gave the illusion of coziness. The bed was the size of Ursa's whole room at her parents' home, and the balcony was even larger. The sitting room and dining room featured rose-colored windows, allowing light to filter through and wash the chambers in a delicate pink. A set of gauzy curtains in each doorway separated the rooms into their respective areas.

Sai and Imir had squealed in jealousy when they had first set eyes on Ursa's new quarters. Her cousins had begged to be allowed to sleep in the luxurious bedroom at least once. Ursa had welcomed them gladly; she was afraid the huge bed would swallow her whole if she slept alone. The three girls had stayed up late into the night, trading anecdotes from their childhood and entertaining fantasies about their futures. Imir had teasingly predicted that Ursa would have at least five children, making her cousin blush. Sai had wrung a promise of summer visits to Ember Island from the bride-to-be.

In the short days before the wedding, palace servants scurried around in a panic while their supervisors marshalled their troops. Elite guards scoured the premises for any suspicious activity. One guard in particular had been assigned to keep a close watch on the future princess, and he took his duty seriously.

Through gentle persistence, Ursa had learned that the guard's name was Shin, that he was twenty-two years old, and that she reminded him of his sister, who had also been an elite guard. When Ursa had asked what became of his sister, Shin had replied, "She died," and would not say anything more. Ursa had found that she was quite fond of the tight-mouthed Shin, and that she would ask Ozai to make him her permanent bodyguard.

On her last night as a single woman, all her female relatives had sat on her enormous bed. Her aunt and mother had given the bride very explicit advice about her wedding night, making all three younger girls blush and giggle. As the night had worn on, the talk had become more tearful. Ursa had clung to her mother, trying not to sob loudly enough to alert Shin of her tears. Her mother had wiped her own face and reassured Ursa that, though her life would change from that night onward, the change would be for the better. "You're a true woman, now, my dear," her mother had said, with a proud smile. Her aunt and cousins had done their best to restrain themselves, but they all fell upon Ursa as soon as her mother had released her.

"I'll miss the times we had together, my cousin," Imir had whispered, clutching Ursa's sleeves while had Sai nodded tearily. "But, I know that you were meant for this life, Ursa. You were meant to be a princess."

Ursa kept those words fimly in her head as her attendants dressed her. The palace maids were kind but efficient, shooing Ursa's mother out of the way as they wrapped her in the heavy ceremonial robes. The crimson silk hugged her waist tightly and flared out about her hips, having been fitted to her exact shape. The golden belt was a traditional accessory; according to legend, that same wide swath had been used to adorn the wife of the first Firelord centuries before. The servants handled it with reverence, tying it around Ursa's ribs in the same, specific square knot that had always been used to secure a princess's wedding dress.

Her mother insisted on fixing her daughter's hair and refused to let the servants pick up a single comb or pin. Her cousins exclaimed over the ornate headpiece, a flame made out of pure gold and embossed with one word: "Purity." Ursa glowed with pride as her mother pinned the crown in place. Finally, she looked like a woman worthy of a prince: with her resplendent red robes and the shining gold headpiece, she stood tall, examining her reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, wait," Sai said, and applied a thin layer of red paint to Ursa's lips. Imir rubbed a line of kohl around her cousin's eyes. "There," both girls said, "that's better."

"Oh, my," Ursa said, touching her red lips. "I think the paint is too much."

"No," Sai sighed, "you look beautiful."

"You're perfect, Ursa," Imir said wistfully, "just like a princess from a Fire Festival tale."

Ursa took one more long look in the mirror, then smiled. "Then, let me go meet my prince."

Ursa's father was waiting at the entrance to her chambers. He kissed her once on her cheek and took her hand. Together they stood in the doorway, waiting for the Firelord and his sons to walk to the bride's side of the palace, symbolizing the couple's journey to marriage. Ursa put a hand to her chest, hoping to still the wild beating under her fingers. Just when she thought that she would surely burst from the strain of her nerves, she heard the strange sound of Fire Sage chanting, and the Firelord came into view.

Firelord Azulon wore his most formal robes but, somehow, he appeared less tall and imposing than usual. His face was not lit by the fire that danced around his throne, and his hands were clasped loosely in his sleeves rather than spread to deal out judgment. Ursa and her father both bowed to their soveriegn, and the Firelord gave Ursa a close glance. "Very good," Azulon said, in a satisfied tone, and Ursa almost fainted when his lips turned up into a faint smile. Then he turned to the line of Fire Sages behind him. "Let my eldest son come forward to see his brother's bride."

Ursa's breath began to speed up as Prince Iroh parted the sages and bowed to her father. As the elder prince bowed to her, as well, he cast Ursa a wink. "Let my brother come forward to receive his bride," Iroh said, in a voice of barely concealed happiness. Ursa clutched at her father's sleeve.

The Fire Sages parted once again, letting the youngest Fire Prince through. Ozai bowed to her father, then straightened. Sai and Imir sighed in envy as the prince's golden eyes fell upon his bride. Ursa stared into his handosme face, her nervousness momentarily overcome. She blushed and bowed, letting her hair hide her face as she cleared her mind.

"It is my honor to receive my bride," Ozai said, and extended his hand.

"It is my honor to be received," Ursa replied, and took his hand in both her own.

The wedding party walked to the open center colonnade, surrounded by guards and Fire Sages. The nobles and dignitaries that had been invited to witness the marriage firsthand stood and bowed as the bride and groom entered. Ursa squeezed Ozai's hand as she felt hundreds of eyes upon her back. Her breath shortened; she felt dizzy. Ozai tucked her hand into his arm and bent to whisper, "Keep your eyes to the front of the room, it helps." She nodded and did as he said.

They both knelt and waited as the Firelord took his place before them. A Fire Sage leaned down and placed a smooth, saffron parchment scroll between the prince and his bride. Ursa could not resist lifting her eyes to meet Ozai's gaze. They both smiled, but they quickly bowed their heads again as the Firelord began to speak. "This parchment before me is the contract between the house of Azulon, son of Sozin and Oni, and between the house of Rom, son of Ta Min. The Fire Sages have witnessed this union. Let no force, be it spirit or man, tear it asunder."

Taking a deep breath, the Firelord assumed a tight firebending stance. The entire assembly waited, breathless, as their leader performed one of the most intricate feats of firebending: the Burning Letter form. Keeping his breath and feet steady, the Firelord wove his hands in a complicated pattern, each move sharp and precise. Ursa watched, awestruck, as his hands gradually twisted into the shape of a word. Then, with one last, great breath, the Firelord stepped forward and placed his hands on the parchment, which began to smoke. When Azulon pulled back, the imprint of his hands left one clear, black character upon the scroll: MARRIAGE.

"The Firelord has written this contract with his own hands," a Fire Sage said. "Now, it is time for the Prince Ozai to commit his name to the page." Ozai was handed a short stick of metal, its tip red-hot. With careful, measured strokes, he burned his name onto the parchment.

"Lady Ursa, do you consent to this contract?" the Fire Sage asked. Across the parchment, Ozai raised a mocking eyebrow at her.

Ursa almost rolled her eyes. "I do," she answered, and took the heated metal. She made sure to write her name as boldly as possible, keeping her hand steady as the character smoldered into the saffron.

"It has been written," the Firelord said loudly. "Now, let it be sealed and kept forever in the archives of our land."

As yet another Fire Sage came forward with the wax and seal, Ozai and Ursa stood and joined hands. For a moment, they looked into each other's eyes. Ursa fought to keep from laughing in joy, and by the way Ozai had drawn in his lips, she knew he felt the same. Then, the wax was melted and the seal was placed on the scroll, and the courtiers and palace guards gave one large shout: "May the fires of love never be quenched!"

"May the honor of marriage never be broken!" Prince Iroh cried.

"May the duty of royalty never be forgotten!" Firelord Azulon said.

"May the ashes of misfortune never fall on your house!" Ursa's relatives cried.

Everyone present erupted into cheers, and Ursa leaned in to place one kiss on her prince's lips. "May our passion burn like the flames of the phoenix," she whsipered into Ozai's ear.

Ozai put his arm around her waist and drew her close. "May the fire in our hearts burn with the power of the sun," he replied, with a kiss of his own.

"May the embers of new legends be raised from your love!" said a small voice, and Lu Ten came bounding up to the bride and groom. "You're finally my real aunt, now, Aunt Ursa!" the youngest prince said, hugging her tightly around the waist.

"That's right!" Ursa laughed, wrapping the boy in her voluminous sleeves. "So, that means I can discipline you to my heart's content!"

"Oh, no," Lu Ten said, with wide eyes. "But, I'm good!"

"She's joking, Lu Ten," Ozai said. "Now, Iroh, please tell your son not to monopolize my bride."

Prince Iroh laughed and pulled his son away. "Come on, Soldier Boy, give the lovebirds some space. They will have small children of their own to discipline, soon enough." The elder prince eyed the way his brother held his new wife. "Perhaps, _very_ soon."

Ursa blushed bright red, then laughed as Ozai raised his hand and singed the edge of Iroh's robe. She took Ozai's other hand. "Let's go to our wedding feast, my husband." She uttered the last two words with the greatest relish.

Ozai gave her a very rare grin and put her fingers to his lips. "Very well, _Princess_ Ursa," he said, his breath a ghost on her knuckles.

"I could get used to those words," Ursa said, breathlessly, as her husband led her toward the banquet hall.

Later, after seemingly endless plates of food had been served, the royal family sat at the low-slung dais while courtiers and military officials milled about, eating and drinking with gusto in the largest room of the Fire Palace. Other wedding guests-those who had been invited to the feast, but not to ceremony-leaned in the many doorways along the hall or added tinder to the tall bonfires built around the courtyard.

Men and women mixed freely, laughing as fire wine bottles were passed from hand to hand. At a royal wedding, most servants were given the night off; only the bare minimum of cooks and servers were employed. Several rooms away, Ursa could hear the off-duty servants celebrating around bonfires of their own.

The nobles did not mind the absence of servants. The Firelord had been very generous with his wine and spirits, and half the guests were pleasantly intoxicated already. Beside Ursa, Iroh laughed as one lord in particular downed his glass of liquor and promptly passed out. "If our courtiers are not careful, they will miss the main event," the eldest prince said, then lunged across the table. "Lu Ten, no! No-that is not punch, my son! That's rice wine!"

While her brother-in-law was distracted, Ursa took the opportunity to lean against her husband, enlacing her fingers with his own. Except for the newlyweds, the dais was deserted; the Firelord had long since retired to his chambers, and Prince Iroh was chasing Lu Ten through the crowd. Ozai slipped one arm around her waist and used the other to tend to the small brazier on the table before them. The bowl full of fire could not be allowed to die on the couple's wedding night. Until morning, the flames would continue to burn without fail; according to tradition, Prince Iroh would sit with the bowl until morning.

Ursa let her gaze wander from the throng of guests, to her family at the other dais, to her husband. Ozai had turned to answer a question posed by a general, leaving Ursa with a view of his raven-black hair and a hint of his jaw. She waited until he turned back to face her, then carefully swept his hair behind his ear. Ursa let her fingers linger, brushing through the fine, dark strands. "I've always wanted to touch your hair," she said, with an embarrassed smile. "But, of course, I had to wait until we were married."

"Be careful," Ozai said sarcastically, "or you'll knock my crown sideways."

Ursa felt a bit of mischief creep into her. "Oh?" Innocently, she leaned in, nearly touching the prince's lips with her own. When Ozai moved to close the distance, she reached out a hand and pulled the golden flame from its perch at the back of his head. "You mean, like that?" Ursa asked, grinning widely.

"How dare you!" Ozai put a hand to his head. "You took it all the way off, didn't you?" In answer, Ursa dangled the precious ornament from her fingertips. "Give it back, Ursa," the prince said, reaching out his hand to take back his birthright.

Ursa ignored the outstretched hand and studied the crown, instead. "Such pure gold," she mused, turning the object in the firelight. "I think this one crown could buy an entire estate in the Earth Kingdom." She threw Ozai a coy smile. "I am sure I could buy fields full of lightning flowers with this amount of gold."

Ozai laughed. "Please, don't pawn off the family heirlooms for a bouquet."

"I might, or I might not," Ursa said, feeling frivolous. "I suppose it depends on whether or not my husband provides me with enough flowers to fill my enormous bed."

Before she could blink, the crown had been plucked from her fingers and replaced by a single, white blossom. Ursa turned to ask from where the lightning bud had come, but her mouth was met halfway by Ozai's eager lips. "Since it's traditional for the bride and groom to wait till their guests are gone to retire to their rooms," the prince whispered in her ear, "I would suggest that you not mention your bed again."

Ursa shivered, caught between self-consciousness and delight. "Prince Ozai, you're making me blush," she responded, in an even lower whisper.

"Believe me," Ozai said, "I want to do more than that." Ursa lifted her eyebrow and, ever so slightly, shrugged her robe further off her shoulder. Ozai fell deathly silent. When his new wife fingered the golden knot at her waist, he turned hastily away. "I think I need some more wine," the prince said, seizing the bottle as Ursa laughed.

"My, my, and I thought I was an incurable flirt," said Prince Iroh's voice, appearing suddenly on her other side. Ursa gave a little shriek and turned to face her brother-in-law. Her face flushed when the eldest Fire Prince gave her an amused look. "If you keep that up, neither of you is going to last until the guests are gone," Iroh said. "Believe me, I know: my wife had to throw a glass of ash rum over me just so I could focus on my father's speech."

"Firebenders are so excitable," Ursa said primly, but she adjusted her robe, nonetheless.

"I was not the one to blush, Ursa," said Ozai. He closed his arms about her, pulling her close to place a kiss on the back of her neck. And, just as he had planned, Ursa gasped and turned a faint shade of red. Ozai kissed her again, and she could not suppress the sigh that ran through her.

The Crown Prince cleared his throat loudly. "I have an idea," Iroh said, after a swallowful of wine. "I shall make a rousing speech that will have every one of our cordial guests spellbound. And, while I hold them in the grip of my irresistable charm-"

The newlyweds were miles ahead of their brother. Before Prince Iroh could finish the outline of his plan, Ozai had taken Ursa's hand and vanished into the scarlet curtain that hung behind the dais. Iroh chuckled and sipped his wine. "Children," he said, and rose from his seat, his glass held high above his head.

As the eldest prince finished making his speech, the wedding feast's main event shot off across the sky. Bright bursts of color bloomed like gunpowder flowers above the palace. Courtiers and servants alike cheered as light rained down from the dark sky.

The fireworks lit the way for two lone figures as they made their way to the princess's chambers. The couple stopped in a wide window to admire the show and, in even more detail, each other. As their lips met, a glowing white flower spread its petals upon the sky.


	19. The Battered Helmet

**Author's Note: I know what you're thinking. 'TrueImmortality is finally updating?! No. Way.' Well, that's what I'm thinking, at least. :p**

**I don't believe in making excuses about not updating. Let me just say: I have been learning how to become a lifesaver. I hope you're all suitably impressed. XD No, really, I'm excited to have anything to show for the two months I've been gone. I'm sorry it's not a super-long update, but I really haven't had time for anything bigger than this. **

**Song: Infinite White from the Transformers soundtrack watch?v=TsohyA97ksU**

**Enjoy!**

19.

The sky was painted a brilliant red, reflecting the horror of the still battlefield below. Although the land held a heavy silence, the afternoon air was penetrated by the occasional moan of agony from an injured soldier, remnants of a fierce conflict between fire and earth. A tattered silk banner fluttered feebly in the wind, its crimson thread blending into the horizon. Below it, an emerald green banner wrapped itself around a dead standard-bearer like a funeral shroud.

One figure stood sharply against the bloody sky, his face turned to the sinking sun. His hands and face were crusted with ash, and his battered armor no longer glinted against his skin. Abandoned, his red helmet sat beside the dead body of an elite guard, impaled on a spike of rock that had shot up from the ground like magic.

"Captain Iroh?"

The voice of the foot soldier brought the Fire Prince back to reality. Looking up, Iroh nodded at the infantryman to continue. "Captain," the soldier said, with a bow, "we have just received a messenger hawk for you from the Fire Palace. I delivered it to your tent, sir."

"What was its color code?" Iroh asked, his mind still vague from the chaos of battle.

"It's an 'Open as Available', sir," the soldier reported, then winced and put a hand to his side.

Iroh frowned. "What's wrong, Private?"

"Nothing, sir," the man said unsteadily, but a line of sweat appeared on his brow as he bent over, clutching his ribs.

"Go and have your wound examined," Iroh said sharply. "We can't afford any more losses in the ranks. These earth rebels have gotten too clever with their ambushes."

"But, I was told to wait until you had opened the message-"

"I'll open the message when I open it." The prince helped the man to a standing position. "Now, I have given you your orders: tend to your wound."

The soldier saluted weakly. "Yes, sir."

As he watched the man limp away, Iroh became aware of the numerous aches and scratches on his own body. He sighed, then looked back at the corpse beside his helmet. The dead guard was one of his own, a man by the name of Gong. Iroh had hand-selected Gong, a non-bender, from a long line of elite guards; he had seen the fire in the young man's eyes and valued it more than any form of bending in existence.

Gong had died in service to the Crown Prince of his nation. Iroh had a sudden flashback to his bodyguard's death-the sound of Gong's body being pierced by a spear of rock, the blank look on the young man's face as he died instantly. Immediately afterwards, Iroh recalled another memory of Gong: one where the elite guard had found a lost Earth Kingdom child and had carried the weak boy five miles to the nearest village. Once he had returned the child to safety, the Fire Nation man had been driven off by the village's inhabitants. Iroh had not known of his guard's absence until Gong had returned with an arrow graze on his forehead and bitterness in his eyes.

Shivering, the prince knelt by Gong's body and gently closed his servant's eyes. Then, as a final tribute, he laid the gold insignia from his helmet onto his guard's chest, protected by one pale hand. "Goodbye, my friend," Iroh whispered, "and may the fire of your life become a flame for the glory of your nation."

Later, as he drank tea in his tent, the Crown Prince remembered the message delivered by the foot soldier. He located it atop his battle plans on a low table and unrolled it. Because of a shortage on lamp oil, he used his own firebending to create light to read.

_To Captain Iroh of the Fire Nation Army, _

_ Middle Earth Kingdom Strike Force Division-_

_ I have been pleased with your performance in the last three campaigns. You have proven to be an excellent tactician, and you have shown great courage under duress. Therefore, as a reward for your exemplary military record, you are hereby promoted to the rank of colonel, and you shall receive every benefit to accompany the title. _

_ Firelord Azulon approved of this promotion. He sends his congratulations, and sends even more news: he intends to dispatch Prince Ozai to you on the Earth Kingdom front for a period of one month, effective immediately. I myself asked our great leader to send Prince Ozai to you; he is a powerful firebender, but he is also clever. The Firelord requests that you keep Prince Ozai at his militia rank and use him strictly as a tactician and logistics officer. His direct words were, 'Under no condition is my youngest son to be deployed on the front.' I am sure, however, that this command is an unnecessary formality; you are, after all, his older brother. _

_ I hope this message comes to you at a triumphant time. May the glory of the sun be with you in your battles and keep your helmet aflame._

_ General Su Min_

Iroh stared at the letter, wondering for a moment if he had read the general's message incorrectly. Then, as his eyes rested again on the characters, he shook his head in resignation. "Well, Ozai, now is your time to shine," he finally muttered, stirred from his shock. Gradually, as the light in his palm died out, the paper was speckled by the prince's tears.


	20. The Loose Sleeve

**Author's Note: HOHMYGOSH. You guys have no idea how happy I am that I actually got to finish a chapter of TLB while on Christmas break. I could cry; that's how happy I am. **

**On a similar note: Yeah...this chapter is weird. I hope you like it...?**

**Note: The subject of prostitution is explored, to a certain extent. I don't comment on it too much, except through the vehicle of Iroh and tea. Wow. That sounded very wrong. Also, it is not enough mature material to change the rating, unless you guys feel that it crosses the 'mature' border.**

** Actually, one of Iroh's lines is taken as a paraphrase as something Benjamin Franklin said in response to a lovely French woman who wished to "spend a night" with him on one of his stays in the French court. I thought it was a very clever thing to say. Please also note that I do not condone or encourage prostitution. I am against it, actually. But I wanted to explore this concept a little bit. :)**

**Song for this chapter: B****eauty Song from the soundtrack to the movie 'House of Flying Daggers' watch?v=0bMpJ6nrrcA **

**Enjoy!**

20.

"Iroh?"

"Ozai! Come in; I was just about to have some tea."

The Fire Prince ducked into his older brother's tent, an irritated scowl on his handsome face. Ozai stood in silence until his older brother gave him permission to sit, and even then, his back was ramrod straight and his shoulders were tense. Iroh handed him a cup of tea and watched him drink as though being held at knifepoint.

Iroh took a calming sip of mint tea before speaking. "What is troubling you?" he finally asked, setting his cup down.

Ozai replaced his own drink on the bamboo table before answering. "The camp followers," he said, as if that would be enough to explain his bad temper. And, as far as Iroh was concerned, that was an explanation in and of itself.

As every seasoned soldier knew, camp followers were a part of any Fire Nation army contingent. Naturally, the Firelord and his officers did not approve; extraneous people at an army campsite were simply more mouths to feed in their eyes. Most of the hangers-on associated with a company of any size made their living from the soldiers themselves, providing services which could only be paid out of pocket. The least reputable followers were also the most desirable: young and beautiful women without any other livelihood than to supply war-weary men with a questionable outlet.

On any given night, fifteen or sixteen of these special followers could be seen slipping past the night watch, waving their thin sleeves like banners to advertise their services, shrugging their sheer robes down their shoulders and parting the lower folds of the material to display their wares. They all wore bright red or orange, to clearly signify their allegiance to the Fire Nation and its soldiers. Unfortunately, the camp followers' choice of robe color did not change most Fire Nation officers' opinions of them at all. Most military men higher than captains, Iroh included, saw the camp followers as nothing but a distraction to their men.

There had also been instances in the fight for the Earth Kingdom where the presence of certain followers in the army camps had prompted attacks from earthbending rebels who had captured the women for their own sport. In other cases, groups of camp followers were killed along with their patrons and their bodies were left to rot inside the deserted battlefields. Many Fire Nation officers drove the women away due to these reasons.

These were the reasons that Ozai cited to his brother to try and convince Iroh to send the many camp followers back to the Fire Nation. On top of that, the younger prince had yet another pressing concern about the camp followers. "They seem to have no respect for their superiors," Ozai said, nearly knocking over his tea with a sharp hand gesture. "Not only do I have to put up with their approaches, but I have to fend off two or three every night!"

"Some men would be flattered," Iroh said dryly, "myself among them."

"Well, you're not married," Ozai snapped. Iroh stiffened, but tried not to look hurt. There was a moment of silence, and then Ozai seemed to take in his own words. "You know what I meant," he finally said, looking away. "You could have one of these women, if you wanted one."

"So could you, brother," Iroh said, as gently as possible.

"No, I couldn't."

"Oh? And why not?"

Ozai narrowed his eyes, looking like a seal-dog scenting out a suspicious smell. Iroh knew his younger brother could recognize his own special brand of teaching, but it was often difficult for Ozai to separate a healthy lesson from a manipulative deception. This very blind spot on his brother's cognitive eyesight was a prime reason for why Ozai was not truly suited for a military lifestyle. A soldier who could not see the benefit of a test of wits was no use to a commander in a tight spot.

"Believe it or not," Ozai said, breaking into Iroh's thoughts, "I do hold some of the same tenets as yourself. I have my family's honor to think about, and I would not besmirch our name by betraying my wife."

"Well, no one would know," Iroh reasoned easily, with a sip of his tea. "You could always do it when it was dark, and wear some sort of hood-"

"I'm actually insulted that you think I'm that desperate," Ozai said, with a lift to his eyebrow.

"Your stay with my company has been extended to three months, Ozai. You would not be the first man who was lonely enough to pull that sort of stunt with these women."

"I'm not interested in skulking around like a wanted criminal just to have some filthy-"

"Watch your language, Ozai," Iroh said sternly. "I can't abide an insult to any kind of woman."

"You're the one who started this insane conversation in the first place!" Ozai said, throwing his hands in the air. "I wouldn't even be talking about those women if you hadn't shifted the topic! I want them out of this camp, Iroh!"

"So do I," Iroh said. "But I, unlike other officers, will not force them out. They are not a part of the military and therefore not my responsibility. They are here entirely on their own volition, at their own risk."

"And, like most ignorant civilians, they think that a military camp is safer than a guarded bunker."

Iroh shook his head. "I have made it clear that I will not protect them, should an attack occur."

"Oh, yes," Ozai replied sarcastically, "and of course they know that the heartless Colonol Iroh will watch sixteen women get slaughtered while his men run to safety."

"Much of my charm is reserved for the palace, brother," Iroh said, with a pointed glance to his latest trophy of war: a green leather helmet with a golden disc on its forehead piece. The piece of armor had belonged to the leading Earth Kingdom commander at the most recent battle. Luckily, that fight had been a devastating blow to the earthbenders, killing over forty-eight of their prime warriors. Ozai had been present for the engagement, and although his deadly strategy had given the Fire Nation troops a killing edge, the younger prince had not set a foot on the battlefield, according to the Firelord's wishes.

Ozai eyed the green helmet, mouth twisted in a bent line. "At the next fight-"

Whatever his younger brother had to say was interrupted by the opening of Iroh's tent flap. There, outlined perfectly by the moonlight to display her stunning figure, was a woman dressed in the typical off-red of a first-rate camp follower. The silvery light behind her and the orange lantern glow in front of her accentuated the glint of her deep black hair and the satin shine of her painted skin. She popped one hip out, throwing her shoulders back as she gave the two seated princes a coy glance. Iroh felt something close to sorrow when he realized that he did not even know her name, much less her face.

"Oh, sweet Colonel Iroh," the woman said, in a tobacco-heavy voice, "won't you come spend the night with me?"

Before his younger brother could stoke the fires of his hot temper, Iroh said, "I would, my dear, but I fear I must wait until the winter."

The woman paused. "Why?"

"Ah, delicate flower, it is still too early in the year, and the nights are too short. In the winter, the nights are longer, and those are the nights I would wish to spend with you. "

"Oh, my," the woman giggled, pretending to be shocked by his reply. "You are such a smooth-talker, Colonel."

"You would think honey wouldn't melt in your mouth," Ozai muttered, almost in admiration.

"But you don't fool me," the lovely camp follower continued, sliding her leg further out from her gown with a sigh. "I know you are just as straight-laced as your delicious younger brother."

"Good heavens," Iroh chuckled, "'delicious?' You can't mean _Ozai_, can you?"

"Why can't I?"

"I don't even think a beared lion-dragon would want him for supper."

"I disagree," the woman said, with a seductive smile. "I could just eat him up."

"I have already declined your invitation," Ozai said clearly, trying and failing not to blush. "I told you, I'm married."

"That was yesterday, handsome. Are you still married?"

Iroh felt that this flirtation was going a bit too far. "I do hate to break up this un-lovers' quarrel," the older prince said, getting to his feet, "but my brother and I have many things to discuss, my dear. I am afraid we must say goodnight."

"Goodnight, for now," the camp follower said, and turned to leave with a wave of her long, red sleeve. As he watched her drift away, Iroh again felt saddened; he still did not know her name, and he never would. Camp followers considered their own names as things nearly as sacred as marriage vows; they would not disclose them to their customers. In truth, Iroh reasoned, their names were some of the only things they could keep to themselves, in their line of business.

"Do you see what I mean, now?" Ozai asked in exasperation. "These women have nothing better to do than to go around and try to seduce men who should be doing more productive things with their time."

Iroh did see his brother's point, of course. But, as he sat back down and finished the dregs of his tea, he knew that he had to make a point of his own. "Brother," he finally said, turning his teacup till the handle faced his chest. "Those of us who should perform more worthwhile tasks should simply be grateful that we were given places in this world that require these tasks from us."

He gestured for his brother to pour another round of tea. Ozai picked up the teapot and poured careful streams of amber drink into each cup, observing the tradition of serving his elder first with a respectful bow. When he had poured himself another cup, he said, "What do you mean?"

"Just think of it, Ozai: if the universe had ordained it, you could have just as easily ended up as a camp follower, yourself, rather than a prince of the Fire Nation." Iroh tipped back his head and swallowed a hot mouthful of tea, then immediately choked. "I forgot how ridiculously hot this black teapot becomes," he said in a watery voice, coughing as hot liquid seared his esophagus.

Ozai stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised in bemusement. Then he set his cup down with a clatter and stood, tossing his head angrily. "Now I remember why I never have tea with you!" he said, testily.  
>"It's because of you confounded proverbs and your impractical, practically useless black teapot!"<p>

And without another word, he stalked out of the tent, while Iroh located a pitcher of water to cool his burned throat.


	21. The Black Ink

**Author's Note: So...it's been a while...and I'm going to give you this. Yep. **

**Song: 'Longing' from the soundtrack to the movie 'Hero' watch?v=6Q6i41srJc8 (because melancholy Chinese music is the best method of conveying Urzai feels)**

**Enjoy!**

21.

Ursa drew the brush carefully along the rice paper, feeling a drop of sweat glide down her back in a mockery of the stroke. The half-formed character beneath her hand was roughened at the edges, betraying the shakiness of its creator's hand. She kept her back straight and her head bowed, and mentally thanked her mother for the many courtly lessons she had received as a child.

She doubted her mother had ever anticipated such an exquisite torture for her daughter: performing fancy calligraphy under the keen gaze of the Firelord himself. Even more incredible was the fact that the Firelord was now her father-in-law. However, the term held none of the affection of Ursa's girlhood fantasies; she could find no second father in the fiery presence of her nation's leader.

She had not known why she had been summoned, but she suspected that she was merely another form of entertainment while the Firelord awaited news from the battlefields of the Earth kingdom. The Fire Sages had already been called to deliver their weekly horoscopes, their voices echoing into every corner of the palace as their assistants beat against iron gongs to emphasize their predictions. After the sages had come the leader of the elite palace guards, with his two finest swordsman to display their prowess in the Firelord's throne room. And, after the guards had bowed their way out, a messenger had been sent to bring Ursa before her ruler along with a writing desk and sheets of rice paper.

Firelord Azulon had not asked Ursa whether she would like to perform for him, for that was not in his nature. He had waited for her to bow. Then he had told her to sit down, and then, with an indecipherable look, he had said, "I want you to write the first word that comes to your mind when you think of my son."

"My lord?" Ursa had asked, perplexed in spite of herself.

"I want you to write the very first word that is in your mind when you think of Prince Ozai," Azulon had repeated crisply. "Do not censor your thoughts; I will not punish you for your answer. But I do ask that you refrain from vulgarity," he had added, in such a dry voice that Ursa had been forcibly reminded of her husband's sardonic humor.

She had no choice but to agree, although she could not fathom the reason for this unexpected command. Still, Ursa had stalled for time, studying the paper and its grains down to the last granule of texture, smoothing her palms over its surface, feeling for imperfections that could interrupt the single character she had been charged to make.

Somewhere along the way, her ploy to extend her performance had become a genuine interest. Ursa had reasoned that, if she had to write anything which featured her husband as the focus, she should ensure she had the finest paper the palace had to offer. After she had finished with the backdrop for her art, she had carefully inspected the brushes and ink as well, even though they had to be the finest in the country to come within a hundred yards of the Firelord's throne.

Azulon had not rushed her. He had sat, watching her turn the long-handled brushes over in her hands, testing the bristles. Ursa had swallowed the mind-numbing panic that had threatened to claw its way up her throat as she felt his eyes on her face. She had closed her own eyes, gathering her courage to continue under that heavy gaze. Then she had sat further back on her heels and tipped her forehead to her chest, thinking.

The Firelord had made a rather unfair demand of her, Ursa had concluded. How could she feel free to slap down the very first thought about the prince of the nation in front of his father? She couldn't guarantee a favorable outcome for her sovereign; her mind was as disjointed as any other human brain. She loved her husband, but not every thought towards him was charitable, especially since he had left for the Earth Kingdom a month after their marriage without one word of protest.

Ursa had brooded further, ink brush clenched tight in her hand. How should she interpret this order? She did not trust Firelord Azulon, mostly because he had never given her a reason to trust him. In fact, he had done exactly the opposite when he had accused her of an assassination attempt on Lu Ten. How could she know that she would not receive a beating or a horrible burn scar for an insulting character?

As if he had read her thoughts, Lord Azulon had spoken. "While I appreciate your sensitivity to the art of calligraphy, Princess Ursa, I think your appraisal of that brush is more out of hesitation than anything else. Must I repeat my promise not to harm you if your answer does not agree with me?"

"No, Firelord," Ursa had murmured automatically, with a bow.

"That is well enough, because it would irritate me to think that a woman who is married to my son, secondborn or not, would be so slow to comprehend."

Ursa had repeated that phrase, _secondborn or not,_ in her mind, until it had resonated like the Fire Sages' predictions in a high-ceilinged hall. Narrowing her eyes, she had dipped her brush into the ink with a newfound sense of purpose.

Her first stroke had been confident, reminiscent of her husband on the training fields. The second stroke, dragged on top and through the first, had mimicked his body as it twisted in midair, ending with a hook on the end that resembled a finishing move to a firebending form. She had admired the two markings for a moment in the same way she would have admired Ozai at work, struck motionless by his graceful movements.

She could feel the Firelord's surprise when she continued to write, shaping a second character. The word started out firm, but it dwindled toward the end as she pulled the brush down the page. When she crossed over the intial two strokes, she did not stop her hand from shaking to express her feelings as the character came to life. When she added the final tail on the second stroke, she set down her brush and looked at her last creation.

The character revealed more than its one dimensional meaning. Its rough lines could not hold the same boldness as her first character, but it shone just as starkly on the white paper as its brother. The slant in the overlying stroke was slightly angled, not as centered as it should have been; it gave the character a raw, unpolished appearance that contrasted greatly with the character above it. Although she had written the word herself, Ursa could not help but feel a pang in her heart as she stared at it. It had given the piece of art the perfect touch, but that truth was painful for her to admit.

She brought the finished product closer to the fiery throne, table and all, and set it before the Firelord. Then she bowed and stepped away. Azulon stared at the characters for sixteen beats of her heart; Ursa counted each one, wondering if each loud pulse would be her body's last act. Finally, her ruler looked back up and waved his hand. "You are dismissed," he said curtly, "but leave the paper here. I want to look at it some more."

Ursa bowed and turned away, relieved but even more confused by the abrupt dismissal. Azulon waited until she had gone before he allowed his eyes to return to the two black characters on the thin rice paper.

He agreed with the first character without a doubt. 'Strength' screamed out at him from the top portion of the sheet, masterfully executed in the style of the noblewomen of his court. Azulon nodded his head absently, dwelling on that first character for several minutes.

Almost unwillingly, his eyes strayed to the second character. The ragged marks had come together to present to him an image he did not want to see, but could not ignore. Ursa was truly a powerful calligrapher, for her wrist had flicked out to connect the two characters by a trail of ink as thin as a strand of hair, but that strand was enough to draw his attention to the princess's full opinion of her husband.

Large but loose, the word 'Lonely' cried out to the Firelord in a voice louder than the boastful 'strength' could ever hope to acheive.


	22. The Green Gauntlet

**Au: Wow. I am so happy to be back at this project. I got over a major obstacle in my school this semester, but still: I wanted to work on my beloved TLB, but I had neither the time nor energy. Ah, such is the fate of an amateur writer. **

**I hope you guys enjoy this one. I was not too happy with it, but I also want to get it posted for all you who were waiting so long. **

**Song: Elements by Lindsey Stirling (a phenomenal violinist and composer) watch?v=sf6LD2B_kDQ (it's a rather fitting title for a song for an ATLA fic, no?)**

**Enjoy! **

When her husband returned to her, six months past the promised date, Ursa rushed through the palace hallways, her personal guard at her heels. "Princess Ursa," Shin said hurriedly, almost as out of breath as his charge, "I know you want to see Prince Ozai very badly-"

"I have never been so happy to meet a war parade in my life!" Ursa declared happily, her cheeks stained red with her heedless flight to the outer edges of the palace.

"Yes, but, my Princess-" Shin gained a little headway when the two rounded a corner, using his long stride to make up the distance. "Please let me go first!"

"Don't worry, Shin, I'm not going to leave you behind," Ursa said, slowing down as she approached the outer doorway leading to the west gate of the palace. "And I'm not going to run headlong into the street, either," the princess continued, as she shook her head and straightened her dress. "I ordered a palanquin as soon as I heard the news."

"Oh, good," Shin said, hanging his head in relief. "Then what was all that running for, Princess Ursa?"

The young woman blushed anew. "I just got excited."

"Oh." Now that he knew the woman he had sworn to protect was safe for the moment, Shin seemed to relax enough to quirk an eyebrow at the newly-crowned princess. "Well, I guess I needed a midday run, anyway. It's good for the heart."

Ursa laughed gustily, still breathless from her own sprint. She had barely slept at all the night before, having received news of the returning war party the previous afternoon. The entire palace had come alive with renewed vigor at the message: guards straightened their armor, servants snapped new linens onto every bed, and the court retainers twittered madly through the corridors like frightened birds. The children of courtiers and servants alike had been given permission to make as many paper phoenixes as possible to decorate the palace archways. Lu Ten had happily taken his place at the head of the youthful team, flinging stacks of orange paper at every passing child with a commanding shout of, "Do your best! We need twenty birds from all of you, at least!"

Ursa herself had run about on the night of the message in a state of near panic. All thoughts of anger at being left alone for so long had left her head the moment she had realized that she would see her husband in only half a day. She had called in her attendants, and together they had rifled through her wardrobe. Twelve robes and forty-seven sashes later, she had thrown her hands up in defeat. "It's no use!" Ursa had said, at last. "I'll just wear my usual outfit!"

That was what led Ursa to appear at the gate to the palace in her plain, red robes, with her hair arranged in its most modest coiffure and slightly disheveled from her run. She received several disapproving looks from the noblewomen that passed by on their way to the parade. Ursa waited until she was seated safely in her palanquin before she adjusted her hair and clothes; she had not wanted to give the other ladies the satisfaction of seeing their scrutiny taken to heart.

Shin sat across from her and watched her twist and tuck her hair without a hint of curiosity; he had been her bodyguard long enough to grow accustomed to Ursa's daily life as a conscientious noblewoman. He had quickly learned that personal appearance was an ongoing battle for every Fire Nation lady, but especially for the only living princess. He silently lifted up the small mirror he had taken to hanging on his belt beside his sword. Ursa smiled and searched her reflection for imperfections. "That will do," she finally said.

Shin nodded. "Princess Ursa is as radiant as the sun's rays over the ocean," he said, using an old compliment that suited his rank but also sounded completely sincere.

"Shin, you are far too smooth-tongued for your own good," Ursa laughed. "You'd better watch those kinds of phrases around the young girls at court or they will be falling all over you."

"Somehow I doubt that, my lady," Shin said dryly, "when there are so many noblemen with smooth tongues _and_ fat wallets to pay them compliments."

"There are not so many, these days," Ursa said, much more solemn. "Too many of our lords and vassals are gone to war. Soon, we will only have you elite guards at the capital to protect us."

Shin sat up straighter. "I like to believe that we are more than enough, Princess."

There was a moment of silence in the palanquin. Ursa tilted her head back and sighed. "I'm acting far too seriously right now!" She cried, clapping her hands together. "My husband is home from war! I should be so delirious that you have to hold me inside the palanquin!"

"I would rather not have to do that, Princess Ursa."

"Well, I'll spare you that indignity," the princess said teasingly, "but I'm not going to stop myself from feeling extremely happy!"

"It is good news that the princes have returned safely," Shin said.

Ursa sighed, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. She had spent the past six months wondering if she would receive the infamous white-ribbon message, the snow-white rice paper with matching ties that reported the death of Fire Nation royalty. Although her husband had not been sent to fight in battles, danger from Earth Kingdom rebels was an ever-present hazard in any part of the war effort. And, even though Ozai had been prohibited from combat, he had been sent into the heart of the fighting. Wherever Prince Iroh was stationed could be considered the most intense area of combat; he was almost always stationed in the middle of the Earth Kingdom, which was the heart of the rebel and Fire Army conflict.

Prince Ozai had sent his young wife one letter, at the beginning of his tour. He had detailed his duties in the army and his living conditions, but he had not mentioned his state of mind on any of the realities of war. At her husband's command, Ursa had not written back; there had been too much of a chance that the incoming letter would be tracked by Earth Kingdom scouts. Ursa had shuddered at the idea that she might be the one who inadvertently betrayed her princes' location to embittered earthbenders.

Without any contact from her new husband, the princess had done her best to settle into palace life, alone and uncertain of her role as Fire Nation royalty. The Firelord had not concerned himself with his daughter-in-law beyond a weekly summons to his throne room to perform more calligraphy, with a different request for each week. Shin had escorted his princess throughout the palace and described each area and its function, but beyond that, he could not be of much help. He was only a guard, and unless his charge wanted to learn swordsmanship or self-defense, he could not give her any instruction.

Traditionally, an elder princess would have guided Ursa through the beginning stages of royalty, but Princess Ruka had died several months before the wedding, leaving the younger woman to her own devices. After her ascendance to the top position in the Fire Nation court, many young noblewomen had come forward proclaiming their undying affection for the girl they had always scorned. Ursa had avoided their advances, disgusted at the shallowness of her fellow courtiers. She had taken to eating in her private chambers and reserved her daily strolls to sunrise, hoping to escape her unwanted friends and their ingratiating smiles.

Ursa's few enjoyable appearances in court had been with her cousins at her side. Sai and Imir were more than happy to attend their cousin-turned-sovereign, taking every advantage to spend the night in the lavish palace guest rooms and to luxuriate in the enormous hot baths. Imir had been a particular asset to Ursa with her talent in artful conversation; she had directed everyone's attention to herself rather than her cousin, never denying a courtier the chance to banter with her about life and court politics. Silently, Ursa had absorbed the way her cousins manuevered through palace life, growing more comfortable as she learned how to appease a courtier's self-importance.

Lu Ten had also proven to be an invaluable companion to the lonely princess. Whenever she found herself caught in hopeless longing for her husband, Ursa had gone to the little prince's chambers and whisked him away from his nurse. Together the two royals had spent hours in the palace gardens. Lu Ten would create a childish game of make believe where Ursa was an evil witch and he was a gallant firebender sent to capture her. Sometimes the young pricne would convince Shin to join in as the firebender's trusty servant. Inevitably, the games would end with a gale of laughter as Ursa dove for the prince and tickled him senseless.

Ursa shifted on her knees in the palanquin, pushing the thoughts of the past six months from her mind. Today, she decided, she would think only of her husband and his safe return.

The capitol had not had such a large home-coming in several years, for there had rarely been a time when both princes were gone from the palace. When the palanquin bearers finally trotted out into a main street, Ursa leaned over and drew back the thin silk curtain to gaze out at the teeming road. Swarms of red-clad citizens cheered and ran clapping down the street, waving streamers of scarlet paper in the wind. The smells of street venders' goods rose high into the air, tempting the princess with the sweet smoke from meats and cakes. Members of the militia bore their insignia proudly on their civilian clothes, standing in salute to their soldier comrades. Children released paper kites and firecrackers into the open spaces in front of buildings and were quickly scolded by their parents.

The palanquin made its way at a shuffling pace, navigating through the crowded street with some difficulty. The princess and several important Fire Nation nobles had been told to wait for the approaching war party at the militia headquarters, a building with a porch that was elevated above street level to prevent ordinary citizens from pestering the nobles. Ursa sat back in her transport and tried not to fidget as her bearers waded through the crowds. Shin noticed her impatience and leaned out of the palanquin to order the servants to pick up their feet.

Half an hour later, Ursa was escorted down from her perch by Lord Wang, a tall, thin man with whom she was vaguely acquainted, and as she regained her feet she greeted the Fire Nation officials standing around the meeting place. Shin became much more attentive to the surroundings as he took his place at Ursa's side, his hand on his sword as he scanned the crowds for any signs of hositility. Usually, Ursa felt more apprehensive when her bodyguard adopted this stance, but she could not muster the appropriate fear that day. Her husband was mere minutes away from her arms, and no other thought occupied her mind.

A great shout rose through the crowd farthest away from the militia building, raising the hairs along Ursa's arms. Their discordant cries formed into words: "All hail the Fire Nation!" There were other sounds mixed into the mess, but Ursa caught the words from the soldiers that had appeared at the end of the street: "Bow to the princes!" and "Make way for the lords of the Fire Nation!"

The war party marched into view like an extremely fat serpent, winding through the main thoroughfare in military fashion, ten men abreast and a hundred men deep. The soldiers' scarlet armor and iron weapons shone in the sun, nearly blinding the spectators. The foot soldiers walked in front, brandishing their tall spears with decorum but unable to contain their relief at the sight of familiar faces. Next came the firebenders and lower-ranking officers, their brilliant red helmets glinting with accents of gold, their heads held high with pride from the cheers of the crowd.

The upper-level officers were last, distinguished from the rest by their trophies of war: shining green pieces of enemy armor attached to their own red plates. Each officer was permitted to wear one piece from each enemy commander he or his men had killed. As Ursa searched among the men, she noticed that the one with the most green to his name was, in fact, Prince Iroh. Her brother-in-law was at the center of the parade, his own helmet traded in for a boxy Earth Kingdom headpiece, his fist raised into the air triumphantly. The crowd bowed low as he passed by and surged to their feet as soon as he was gone, screaming in elation at their sovereign's victories.

Ursa's eyes slid past the eldest prince as she caught sight of the man at Iroh's right, ten paces behind him. It seemed as though Ursa's heart would beat through her chest as she stared at him. With his ink-black hair blowing freely in the wind and his gaze trained on the spectacle in front of him, he looked as regal as a Firelord's portait. Taller than the oldest prince by a foot, this man wore his scarlet armor and his set of black swords with haughty ease. His set of armor was complete, except for one small detail: the gauntlet on his right hand was the color of moss-covered bark.

Ursa felt as if a stone had dropped into her stomach as she gazed on that single piece of Earth Kingdom armor. Her eyes jumped back to the face of the man at Prince Iroh's right hand.

That man was her husband, Prince Ozai of the Fire Nation. And, as a prince of the Fire Nation, Ozai had killed a man. Suddenly, Ursa began to wonder about the things her husband might have told her, if he had been able to send her letters from the battlefield. What things could he have told her that would not have been too upsetting to relate? She wondered if she would have the strength to listen to his stories, now that she had seen the proof of bloodshed on his hand.


	23. The Silk Belt

**Author's Note: Well. It's been some time, friends. And we'll leave it at that. **

**A slightly different pace for this chapter! And be prepared; I think I'll skip a big period of time next chapter. **

**Song for this chapter: The Last Night of the World from the Broadway musical 'Miss Saigon' watch?v=oWnxX55_e1k (It's a great musical for semi-dark ATLA inspiration)**

**Enjoy!**

23.

Ursa woke with a start, the echo of a dream lingering in her mind as she was jolted from her sleep. Her hands were clenched tightly in the sheets, remnants of the terror she had felt throughout the dream-a nightmare, she recalled faintly, sinking back against her mattress. A nightmare had stolen into her sleep, filling her mind's eye with bloody daggers and burning houses. She took a moment to breathe deeply, trying to find her center. _Calm, serenity, balance_, she chanted silently. Once again, she failed to meditate effectively and turned to her next best alternative, the man lying beside her.

The man who _should_ have been lying beside her, Ursa thought sourly. She looked up to see the silhouette of her husband at the windows of her bedroom, his back to her. "Ozai?" she asked, leaving off any true question due to her drowsiness. When he did not answer, she sighed and pulled back the bed linens, pulling her nightgown more firmly about her. Her feet tingled when they touched the cold bamboo floor. She moved quickly to stand next to her husband, to profit from his firebender heat.

Ozai remained silent, but he pulled Ursa to his side and did not draw away when she wrapped herself around him. They stood that way for a long moment, absorbing the quiet of the palace before dawn. Ursa pressed a kiss to her husband's collarbone. His arms tightened around her.

For the first week of his return, Ursa had remained uncertain of Ozai. How might he have changed, she wondered? She had not seen him for six months, and he had been in the middle of a war zone. Surely, after he had killed a man, he must have had some kind of deep, philosophical revelation? Isn't that what her father had always said would happen to warriors when they went to war? When she had put this question to Shin, he had snorted in polite disbelief. "That might have been true in the days of Avatar Roku, Princess," Shin had said, "but all the poetry's gone from war, these days."

Disturbed at her guard's reply, Ursa had retreated even further from her husband. Ozai had scarcely had time to notice: the Firelord had kept both his oldest and youngest son in war meetings from sunrise to noon, and had then rushed them from lunch to dinner in a whirlwind of military drills and maneuvers. Ursa had caught passing glimpses of the princes as they rushed from one point to another, their faces drawn with concentration. Several times, Ursa had accidentally caught the tale end of a scolding dealt out to both princes by one general or another for their lack of attention. Unbidden, pity for her husband and brother-in-law had welled in her heart; they had come home from war to be thrown into another kind of conflict. Prince Iroh had barely had time to greet and embrace his son before he had been dragged into the first meeting.

Night was the only time Ursa had seen her husband, when they met at the entrance to her chambers. Even with her doubts, Ursa had not denied her husband permission into her rooms, despite the fact that she had every right as a princess to do so. She had not held back any part of herself, either, but had been surprised when Ozai had seemed to sense her hesitance and had not taken up her offers. They had slept side by side, without touching, for seven days, until Ursa had given into her desire to be held once again. She had slept through many lonely nights without her husband's reassuring warmth at her side and resolved not to live any longer without it.

Ursa frowned, thinking back on her own weakness. She certainly did not fit the typical picture of a Fire Nation princess. She could not claim to be one of those noblewomen who used her body as a bargaining tool with her husband. Her mother had not raised her to be a clever, steely kind of lady who manipulated men into doing her will. Although Ursa knew she had a good deal of cunning hidden inside her, she had rarely turned that latent talent upon her husband. And, she thought with a blush, she hardly had enough experience to turn the features of her body into talents in and of themselves.

So, Ursa reflected as she pressed herself still closer to Ozai's warmth, she would accept herself and her husband as they were. She could see no point in trying to change her nature in an effort to gain leverage over someone as recklessly unpredictable as Ozai.

"You seem to be deep in thought." Ozai's voice broke the silence in a low volume, his words hoarse from sleep.

"Not as deeply as you are," Ursa answered, with another frown. "You didn't answer me when I spoke your name."

"I didn't?"

"No," Ursa sighed, and tapped a finger against her husband's chest. "And you had better not make it a habit not to answer me, my dear." Ozai smiled suddenly, and Ursa cast him a questioning look. "What?"

"You told me in one of your letters that 'my dear' was only what old couples called each other," Ozai said, with a dry smile. "I hadn't realized that we had passed so quickly into our seniority together."

Ursa pushed lightly against him, and he humored her by swaying. "You have too much tongue for your own good, sometimes, Ozai."

"Oh, really?"

By his eyebrow alone, Ursa could tell that Ozai had given the statement a double meaning. She cast him a warning look and ducked out from under his arm as his eyes began to wander down her body. "It is far too early in the morning for those kind of jokes," she said, her hands on her hips.

"If that's the case," Ozai said smoothly, "then maybe you should tie your robe a little tighter."

Ursa glanced at her front and sighed in exasperation. "It never stays secure for very long," she said, yanking on the folds of her nightgown to bring the parted ends together. "Silk is wonderful, but it makes a very slippery-"

Ursa found her hands brushed aside as Ozai stepped close. She watched his practiced fingers tie her belt into a classic firebender's knot, one that every soldier learned to keep his cloak tied tightly around his shoulders. "I was deep in thought," her husband said, as he finished the knot and returned to their original conversation.

"You should be sleeping, my prince," Ursa said lightly, but she could not hold back her curious glance into her husband's eyes.

"So should you, princess," Ozai replied. He smoothed the ends of her belt onto her thighs. Then his fingers regained a more respectable position against her back, lacing together to bring her closer to him.

Ursa lowered her eyes and sighed. "I had a bad dream," she confessed, feeling her cheeks heat with shame. Her husband had been through a war zone; how could her dreams possibly compare with his own?

"What was the dream?" Ozai asked.

Shaking her head, Ursa said, "I don't quite remember. I can recall a burning house and...and a lot of blood. I heard someone screaming, too." She hid her face against his chest. "Now that I say it out loud, I'm sure it sounds so childish to you!" she blurted out, frustrated by her poor memory. The dream had been terrifying, but she could not accurately explain it.

"Why would you think you sound childish, Ursa?" Ozai said, looking slightly perplexed.

Ursa flushed again. "Because you've been to the Earth Kingdom, and I've been here, learning how to coddle courtiers." The words came out bitterly, and they surprised the princess as much as they did the prince.

"You're not a soldier," Ozai said sharply. "No one expects you to go to war. Why would you say that?"

"I don't know. I feel as though I'm unworthy to be a princess, because I don't seem to suit the crown very well."

"Has someone belittled your position as head of the court?"

"No," Ursa mumbled, "everyone has been very polite." She could not tell Ozai that when she was at court she felt as foolish as an airbender trying to make lightning. She could not tell him that court life was stressful and much too political for her tastes. She could not tell him how sometimes she secretly envied his importance as true royalty who was able to wield a prince's power. She also could not tell him how much she feared that the war would drive them apart, as the gulf between their places in court grew wider and wider. Instead, Ursa leaned against her husband and sank into a sullen silence.

Ozai did not answer for a long while. Ursa busied herself by straightening the bits of her husband's hair that hung in her line of sight. After she had fingered the same three pieces four times, Ozai took her hands and pulled them down to rest on his chest. "I'm going to trust you with a secret, Ursa," he said at last, causing her to look up. "Of course, you must swear never to expose what I'm about to say."

Ursa leaned forward, taking her husband's face into her hands. "What is it, Ozai?"

Ozai gave her a half-smile and slid one set of fingers over the hand on his jawline. "I didn't actually kill an earthbender."

Ursa frowned. "You must have. You have the gauntlet-"

"I have the gauntlet of a rebel who died at the hands of a commander following my directions through a path in the mountains. He stumbled upon the earthbender and was forced to defend himself. I was forty paces behind him, and by the time I arrived the man was already dead."

Ursa shook her head. "I don't understand, Ozai."

Ozai took her hand in his own and traced her thumb with his index finger. "The commander insisted that I claim the kill as my own so that the soldiers would respect me." His mouth twisted in wry amusement. "It didn't matter to these men that I designed every battle plan employed by their division for six months without a single failure. They didn't seem to care that if it wasn't for me, half of them would be rotting in pieces in an Earth Kingdom field. All they cared about was whether their prince had a piece of green on his armor." At Ursa's uncertain look, Ozai sighed and said, "Think, Ursa: Your opinion of me changed the moment you looked at that gauntlet on my hand. You didn't know that I hadn't killed an earthbender. You saw the symbol of power, and you automatically placed me on a plane above yourself."

Ursa bit her lip. "Yes, but-"

Ozai interrupted her. "Ursa, with that crown on your head, where do you think you are now in the eyes of your people?"

Ursa leaned back, stunned. Ozai had never spoken to her like this before. In all his time as her fiance, he had never seemed as much a prince as he did now, in her bedroom, shirtless and barefoot. Respect that she had never felt before rose up in her. Wonderingly, she touched his face again.

"What is it?" Ozai asked, with a mildly alarmed look. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my prince," Ursa answered, with a smile. "But I'm glad you told me this secret. My opinion of you had changed again." She leaned in close and brushed her lips to his ear as she said, "But this time, the change is for the better."

Ozai wrapped his arms around her once again, and without much thought, Ursa transformed her light touch into a deep kiss. She knew what would follow her bold action, and welcomed the hours before sunrise. Now that she understood one way in which her husband had changed, she was eager to reacquaint herself with the ways in which he had not.


	24. The Turning Leaf

**Author's Note: FINALLY. Ohmygosh I thought this day would never come, when I could be reunited with this labor of love! I hope my readers are still hanging in there...guys? Guys? XD**

**So, I won't waste much time with a long, drawn-out AN! **

**Song for this chapter: Tong Hua by Guang Lian (a real, legit Chinese pop singer) watch?v=XO-wq9nP_8 (can we just say, Urzai?)**

**Enjoy!**

24.

_Dear Ozai,_

_ It's summer. Can you believe we have been married for over one year? Well, perhaps you can, since you have been away from me for so long. I must admit, I didn't think being married to a prince would mean spending so much of my time without you. It's well enough that Lu Ten and Shin are here to keep me company. And, lately, I've seen quite a few of our old friends. Many of those insufferable girls that used to torment me are much more friendly now that we're older. Of course, it might have something to do with my status, now: if I wanted to, I could have them all thrown in prison on some charge or another. I don't think Lord Azulon would object all that much. _

_ But I'm awful for saying such a thing, aren't I? My goodness, you're rubbing off on me. Oh no, now I've gone and said _another_ awful thing! I'm sorry! I can't seem to stop, lately! _

_ How are things on the far islands? I know you must be proud that your father sent you on his inspection tour in his stead, but I hope it is a much shorter trip than expected. You have already been gone for five weeks-how much longer must I wait for a warm bed? Really, having a firebender for a husband does spoil me terribly. But you know I wouldn't trade you for anyone else; I will succumb to being a weak-willed princess who will not go outside in the cold before letting you go. _

_ Speaking of weak princesses, my darling, I must tell you: I have asked Shin to teach me self-defense. He is, as you know, a master at martial arts, and before he was my guard, he had been assigned by the head of the elite guards to train the new recruits. He's quite skilled for a man his age. Anyway, I asked him, and he insisted that he have your permission before we begin. I told him you wouldn't mind, but he was quite firm about the matter. _

_ You don't mind, do you, Ozai? I would rather have you teach me, but the last thing I want to do when you come home is to nag at you to help me with self-defense. As to why I want to learn...well, I suppose I have been thinking a great deal about the war and its consequences. I know it's ridiculous, but I feel that I will need to know how to handle a knife and sword before this conflict is over. I think it's my nightmares, dear; they have been keeping me up at night, although I can never remember them. I know it's foolish, but I can't banish this foreboding from my thoughts. _

_ I have ended my letter on a bad note. I'm sorry, my love. Please let me know what your are doing and when you will be home!_

_Yours,_

_ Ursa_

_My Dearest Wife,_

_ Good heavens, that address came out rather sarcastic. I swear, I was serious when I wrote it. I think my mind is starving out here in the outer islands-or should I say, in the Land of Boredom, across the Sea of Dullness. Inspection may be an important part of the Firelord's job, but by my father's beard, this is the single most boring thing I have ever endured in my life. Yesterday, for instance, we went out to the largest field on the smallest island and stared at a plant-a single plant!-for half an hour to observe the sun's position in the sky. This was supposed to prove something about how the island was the ideal place to grow this plant, which makes the finest red dye in the Fire Nation. "The sun favors the plants in this location" were the exact words. These farmers, Ursa, are about as superstitious as my aged nursemaid. _

_ You're lonely, Ursa? Trust me, you would rather be sitting in the palace staring at tapestries than in a field staring at plants. I have been gone a long time, but I will come home soon. We are supposed to visit the last island for another two weeks, and then we will return to the palace. _

_ Those girls are insufferable, and I wouldn't object at all if you threw them in jail...temporarily, of course. We couldn't have them talking the jailors' ears off. Prison is supposed to punish the prisoners, you see, Ursa. _

_ As for that comment about warm beds: you're trying to torture me, aren't you? You are very devious, sometimes. _

_ Now, about your request of the guard: I find myself inclined to forbid Shin to teach you. I would rather have the honor myself, Ursa, but I know that you and I might have trouble remaining focused if we tried to train together. After all, you _do_ know how Fire Nation soldiers train, don't you? That's right, darling: they train shirtless. Then again, that is why I don't want anyone else to teach you, either. _

_ I'm (mostly) joking, princess. If there is a chance that your dreams are connected to feelings of vulnerability, by all means, learn how to wield a knife. But I am absolutely serious about this: do not tell my father. If you must train, train somewhere he will never see or hear you. You are Avatar Roku's granddaughter, Ursa. If you were discovered learning how to bear arms in the Firelord's own house, I think it would be disastrous for us both. Shin is cunning enough to keep you in a little-known training ring, so make sure he knows my stipulation before you begin. Oh, yes, and take a maid with you whenever you go; that way I won't be imagining some scenario which will be very bad for my anger management and even worse for Shin's existence. _

_ Now, how is that for a bad note?_

_ Yours as well,_

_ Ozai _

_My Most Affectionate Husband,_

_ I made my greeting sarcastic, too. That way, you won't feel so embarrassed. _

_ I'm making progress in my self-defense. I've learned several punches and kicks, but I don't think those are my style; I'm not a hand-to-hand fighter, if I'm even a fighter at all. Shin says I will do much better with a weapon in my hands. I am rather terrified of that prospect. I just want to feel as though I can hold my own against an attacker, not learn how to behead someone!_

_ To set your mind at ease, my love, I will have you know that I train in a man's undershirt. Shin has seen less of my body than Lu Ten (The other day, your nephew ran into my dressing room when it was occupied. It was an accident, of course. I was more embarrassed than he was). And as for your father, don't worry. Shin has kept our secret, and he has sworn to guard it with his life. Also, my maid Nu has witnessed every training session (although she's quite scandalized by my eagerness to learn a martial art)._

_ It's so good to hear that you are coming home soon! I can't wait to see you again. I sent you a scroll with this message to give to the official of the last island you're visiting: it's a piece of calligraphy I made the other day while in court with the Firelord, and it says "Prosperity". I would like to give it to that island, since it is one of the main rice staples in the country. I have found myself following in your footsteps to take a walk down the political path, while I'm here at court. _

_ Until I see you again, _

_ Ursa_

_Wife Whose Humor Never Ends,_

_ You think you're very clever, don't you?_

_ I am glad to hear of Shin's devotion to you, and hope that it extends to our family in general-not to the Firelord's family, mind you: _our _family, or the one we might have one day. Don't ask where that none-too-subtle foreshadowing came from, because I can't tell you. I think my mind has been saturated with provincial farmers' talk about "fertility" and "seasons of growth" and "seed blessings." Please, if I start to talk about how I'm going to hope for a healthy crop this year, I would like you to run me through with that weapon you're learning to use. _

_ Don't tell anyone that the Firelord's son is asking you to kill him, either-that will certainly get us in trouble. _

_ I regret to say that, due to rains, we will be delayed in our return journey by at least a week. In the meantime, send my regards to Lu Ten along with my dire warnings to stay out of my wife's dressing room. _

_ Yours, _

_ Ozai _

_Ursa,_

_ Good news: we're leaving in three days. I'm sending a gift ahead of me. _

_ Ozai_

_Ozai:_

_ I love the lightning flowers! I don't know how you managed to send such a large bouquet without battering the poor buds to pieces! I love the flowers, but I shall love having you back in my arms even more. I have made preparations for a small welcome feast when you and your retainers return. _

_ Love, Ursa_

_My Prince, _

_ It was wonderful to have you home for as long as possible. I know you were eager to return to the war front, but I am sure you can forgive me for my lack of enthusiasm. The Firelord has become so ready to send both you and Prince Iroh off to fight; what could have changed so much in so little time? What happened to his strategy to keep one of you away from the fighting to preserve the bloodline?_

_ I know I am being foolish, but I can't help it. My nightmares have come back since you left, Ozai. It's nothing you can help, but it's nothing I can stop. I awoke with a scream last night, and I thought poor Shin was going to throw himself into a fit trying to open my door. He was half-asleep, the poor man, and he was exhausted from training. I felt ridiculous for giving him such a scare. He twisted his wrist in his rescue attempt, but he should recover soon._

_ I hope things are going well with you. I have heard that the Earth Kingdom is lovely in the autumn-well, its scenery is lovely, at least. I have also heard that the Earth rebels are gaining ground against the Fire Navy at the cliffside of Naogui. I find myself shamefuly grateful that neither you nor Prince Iroh was assigned to those ships. From the gossip, it sounds as though those poor soldiers do not have much of a chance._

_ Please write as soon as you can._

_ Love,_

_ Your Wife Ursa_

_Ursa,_

_ I'm sorry I have not written these past few weeks. We've all been rather pre-occupied in this part of the world, but you are right: the half fleet at Naogui has been decimated by Earth rebels. They say that for every living Fire Nation soldier, there are ten corpses. The war has certainly taken a grim turn on that battlefield. _

_ I don't have much time to write, and even less to say. I could tell you of the pleasant Earth Kingdom weather and the astonishing amount of leaves that come from the trees, but until this moment, I have not really noticed them. We-and by 'we,' I mean me, Iroh, and our troops-have been rather busy. I can't say much more than that, my dear. I'm sure you understand._

_ Do not blame the Firelord too much for your loneliness, Ursa. I believe he has realized that he cannot keep some of his best strategists on the home front if he ever wants to make genuine progress into the Earth Kingdom. _

_ I apologize for the short letter. I hope to send you a longer one, soon._

_ Yours,_

_ Ozai_

_Princess,_

_ I am writing to tell you that you may reinstate our correspondence. We've left the secret location for the time being. I will send you another golden-sealed letter when we must stop communication again. _

_ In the meantime: I feel as though I have become single again, without the benefits of doing as I please without fearing my wife's wrath (and the certain death that would follow-don't try to deny it, you know you would stab me through the heart if I ever betrayed you). Iroh has shoved so much tea down my throat, I am frankly amazed that I haven't started quoting old proverbs and playing pai-sho on a regular basis. _

_ How is spring in the capital? Have your cousins been visiting? Oh, yes, and Iroh has asked me to ask after Lu Ten. He has been anxious to send letters, especially now that Lu Ten can read. You would have thought the child had composed the perfect poem from the way Iroh admired Lu Ten's last message. I believe the letter comprised all of two words. Did you help the young prince with his letters? I have seen your beautiful calligraphy, after all. _

_ I feel as though I'm rambling, but it's no surprise, I guess. I have been stuck with the same group of men since the beginning of fall. We rarely have anything to say to one another, since we're all living in the same place and experiencing the same things. _

_ Despite what all the army recruiters say, my dear: war is not glamorous. _

_ Ozai_

_My Dear Husband,_

_ I was so glad to hear from you again! I have tried to find many things to occupy my time while you have been gone. I recently took up a new project: restoring the old Fire Sage library on Crescent Island to its original glory. _

_ Yes, my love, I know what you will say-that I should stay as far away from Fire Sages as possible, and that your father would not approve of this project. But, obviously he has, for I could not secure funds for the library without his seal. Please do not have a heart attack, Ozai. The Firelord was very gracious and said nothing of my ancestry when he approved the documents. He simply told me that I was never to set foot on Crescent Island in person, but that I was free to supervise the project from the palace in any manner that I deemed appropriate. Then he requested that I make him another calligraphy scroll, which I did, and that was the end of our meeting. _

_ I can feel your disapproval from where I sit now, my most cautious husband. Perhaps it will comfort you to know that Lu Ten was present for the entire meeting; he has been so lonely lately that I have taken to keeping him with me wherever I go. I believe his earnest declaration about the library's disrepair put some weight behind my claim. It seems that not even the fierce Firelord Azulon can resist our very persuasive little prince. _

_ Yours forever,_

_ Ursa_

_Ursa-_

_ I have spent several minutes with my hand hovering over the page, steadily dripping ink onto the parchment-I'm sure you noticed the horrific marks. I find that I have nothing to say. I cannot believe you went to my father and approached him about anything related to the Avatar. I have begun to doubt your intelligence._

_ Yours as well, _

_ Ozai_

_Ozai-_

_ I shall respond in the same tone as you replied to me: _

_ I have nothing to say to a man who insults me or my family without any basis for such a criticism. I did nothing wrong and I will not be made to feel ashamed for something that neither I nor your father considered anything more than a civilized agreement. _

_ I hope you will think further on the matter and your feelings. I find myself disappointed in you for the first time since I have known you. _

_ Yours, _

_ Ursa_

_Ozai: _

_ You did not have to send me such an elaborate gift. Although I do like the jade, a simple "forgive me" would have sufficed._

_ Love, _

_ Ursa_

_Ozai:_

_ Must you insist on sending me these outrageous peace offerings? I don't need any more golden earrings! I have not forgiven you completely. I don't want anything but your respect and trust. _

_ Ursa_

_My Loving Husband:_

_ You have broken my resolve with this last gift. A lightning flower which you managed to find in the dead of winter in the Earth Kingdom...I don't know how you found it, but I have accepted this as your truest apology. You cannot impress me, my love, with gold and jade and silk. I have more than enough of those things. But love, respect, courage, and the ability to change: these things are not easily obtained, especially from a man who is so brilliant and independent. You have proven to me your determination to have my forgiveness, so I give it freely. _

_ I have sent you a lightning flower, in return. _

_ Your wife, _

_ Ursa_


	25. The Finest Brush

**Author's Note: This semester has taken my head and slammed it against a few flat surfaces. Also: Finals, finals, finals. :P**

**This chapter seems to be an interlude, really. I hope you like it.**

**Song for this chapter: All My Trials by First Aid Kit watch?v=StHDPP_Jo94 (the feels, the feels, oh, the feels)**

**Enjoy! **

25.

"Lu Ten, listen to me-"

"No! No, Aunt Ursa! I won't!"

"You would dare speak to your aunt that way?" Ursa asked sharply, drawing herself up. "Listen to me, young man: I don't care if you are the future heir to the throne. You will not speak to me that way. Do you understand?"

The young prince stood defiantly before her, trembling with repressed words. His small fists were clenched, his eyes were narrowed, and his childish mouth was stretched tight into a thin line. Ursa folded her arms across her chest and waited. The silence stretched on, taught like a steel cable. At last, the seven year-old prince took a deep breath and said, through clenched teeth, "I'm sorry, Princess Ursa. I didn't mean to be so disrespectful." Then he made the stiffest bow Ursa had ever seen and turned to run from the tea room.

"I didn't say you could leave," Ursa said, her voice uncompromising in its elegance. Lu Ten halted in his tracks but did not turn around. "Come back, kneel down, and we'll have tea," his aunt continued, following her own orders. Once she had seated herself, she took the teapot in her hands and poured herself a cup.

Slowly, Lu Ten turned, a pout lingering on his young face. He crossed the room and knelt across from his aunt, his bright red clothes a match to her own but his dark scowl the opposite of her tranquility. After Ursa had situated her own cup, she poured for her nephew, ignoring the tradition of the youngest person pouring for the oldest.

"Now," Ursa said, "tell me what's bothering you, Soldier Boy."

"Nothing," Lu Ten said quickly, snatching his tea cup off the table and taking a loud sip.

Ursa pursed her lips but did not comment on the young prince's breach in manners. She brought her cup to her own mouth and spoke around it. "Lu Ten, I have spent so much time with you. I know when something has troubled you. Please, won't you tell me?"

Lu Ten shook his head and looked away, but the tremble in his chin told Ursa more than she needed to know. Silently, she set aside her cup and opened her arms. After a moment where the boy eyed her, he dropped his cup and fell against her, doing his best not to cry and failing miserably.

"There, there," Ursa murmured, stroking her nephew's hair back, "what's the matter, my little prince?"

Lu Ten spoke around his sobs. "It's-my-birthday-tomorrow!"

"I know, Lu Ten. The whole palace is going to celebrate! Now, isn't that nice-"

Lu Ten shook his head wildly. "No-No, it's n-not because-my-my-father isn't-h-h-ere!"

Ursa felt her heart pulse painfully against her ribs, an echoing pain she had felt many times in the past two years. "Oh, Lu Ten," she said heavily, kissing his forehead. "You knew your father wasn't going to come this year."

"I know, but-but-I just want him to!" Lu Ten dug his face further into her robes, hiccuping loudly. "I miss him, Aunt Ursa! I miss him so much!"

"I do, too," Ursa said. "And I miss your uncle, as well."

"And Uncle Ozai's gone, too! And grandfather promised he wouldn't send uncle Ozai to war, and he did anyway!"

"Shh, now," Ursa said, glancing quickly at the guards posted along the tea room's far wall. As one, they all averted their gaze in a pointed statement: none of them would report the young prince's words to the Firelord, no matter how treasonous they sounded. "The Firelord must do what is right for his country, Lu Ten," Ursa continued, repeating a phrase the young prince had no doubt heard more times than any other. "I know it makes us sad, but we can't be selfish. We must let our princes go-"

"Go to war," Lu Ten cried, "where they could d-die and never come home! Couldn't they die, Aunt Ursa? That's what Lo said! He said dad's going to d-die and never come home!"

Ursa felt a hot flash of anger toward General Laohu's son, a boy who was several years older than the prince and who liked to put disturbing ideas in Lu Ten's head. "That is a terrible thing for Lo to say," she said strongly, "and Lo does not know that Prince Iroh shall not return from war. He is simply saying unkind things to make you cry, Lu Ten."

"But it's true, isn't it?" Lu Ten asked miserably. "Dad might never come back from the Earth Kingdom. He might never get to see me again."

Ursa pushed the young prince back, setting him at arm's length so she could stroke his face and look into his eyes. "Your father is a great warrior, Lu Ten. If anyone can come home from war, he can. I cannot promise you that he will come home, but I have the greatest faith that he shall."

Wiping at his eyes, Lu Ten nodded. Then he looked back at Ursa and said, tentatively, "But, Aunt Ursa...What about Uncle Ozai? Do you think he'll come back? I d-don't want him to...to-"

"I have faith in your uncle, as well," Ursa said immediately, unable to let her nephew finish his ominous sentence. She felt a chill settle about her as she pictured her husband arriving home from war in a funeral shroud, carried off a ship by elite guards. She wondered what would happen to her if her husband did die, and instantly felt ashamed that her first thought about his theoretical death was about herself.

"I have faith in them, too, Aunt Ursa," Lu Ten said, re-directing her attention.

Ursa smiled at him with an effort. "Good. Then let's remind ourselves that our brave princes will at least be home for your ninth birthday, Lu Ten."

"Yes!" Temporarily revived from his anxiety, Lu Ten jumped up from the tea table and swung his arms around, smiling widely. "And if I can't have my father at home, at least I still have you!"

Ursa laughed. "Well," she said affectionately, "I am not an adequate substitute at all, but thank you for your support, little prince." She rose from her place at the tea table and motioned for one of the guards to notify the servants of the dirty cups. "Now, since it is your birthday tomorrow, why don't we go to my quarters and make a nice calligraphy piece to hang on your wall?"

"You mean, I get to write with your special brushes?" Lu Ten's eyes widened comically. The young prince had always longed to use the princess's calligraphy set, a wedding gift from the Firelord. Each brush was made of the finest materials in the world and crafted to perfection by expert artists. Lu Ten's tutor would never let the young prince near the brushes, exclaiming, 'Little boys should not touch the princess's gifts from the Firelord!'

Ursa had promised Lu Ten that, someday soon, he would be able to practice his calligraphy with her finest brushes. Looking upon the prince's forlorn face on the eve of his birthday, Ursa had known that the day had come.

"Yes," Ursa said, with a gentle smile. "I want to help you make a lovely wall hanging for your bedroom. That will be my present to you."

As the two royals made their way to her chambers, Ursa watched Lu Ten speak animatedly about the phrases he would make and how he would be extremely careful with her finest possessions. His small hands waved about elaborately, matching his beaming face. "I think I'll make one of the poems I've been learning with my tutor! Or, no, maybe I'll make a new poem, all by myself!"

"Whatever you choose will be wonderful, I'm sure," Ursa told him.

Lu Ten and his aunt spent two hours making a large scroll to hang on the prince's bedroom wall. The brushes were much too large for Lu Ten's hands to wield on his own, so Ursa bent over his shoulder and guided his strokes with her own sure fingers. The Firelord's brushes did not fail them; when they were finished and stood back to admire the finished piece, they both felt deep satisfaction at the results. Lu Ten had smudges of ink on his hands and face, but when he threw his arms around her in thanks and squeezed her tightly, Ursa hugged him back and didn't mind at all that her gown was ruined.

"I know father would think this was a good piece, too," Lu Ten said, his face still hidden in Ursa's robes.

Ursa closed her eyes and hoped with every fiber of her being that the spirits were listening, and that they would guard a little boy's father as he stood on foreign land, living in a battlefield. As she pulled Lu Ten tighter against her, she prayed that the spirits would remember a little boy's uncle, as well.


	26. The Bitter Bruise

**Author's Note: Wow. Depressing chapter is depressing. XD But I'm just happy to get a new one out! Happy New Year!**

**Song: Grade 8 by Ed Sheeran watch?v=s6-P_KqFCQ (yeah, weird selection, but it's okay)**

**Enjoy...?**

26.

The sun had risen on the Fire Nation only two hours before, but the court of the Firelord was in an uproar. Courtiers scuttled back into their quarters, unwilling to be tossed around the corridors by the scarlet-clad guards barging their way through the palace. The elite bodyguards of the Firelord were rarely seen together in large numbers unless they had been sent out to retrieve an errant firebender or a disgraced nobleman intent on his escape. The guards marched down the ornate halls with grim faces half-hidden by their faceplates. They left the palace proper and entered the servants' quarters, sending maids and retainers into mild panic as they passed.

"Hurry it up," the head of the guards said, breaking into a light jog, "we can't let him escape."

"Can't we?" another muttered, but was given a steely glare by his comrades.

"Do you want to join him?" asked a third guard, effectively silencing the second.

At the end of the servants' quarters, the guards spotted an open window. "There!" the leader shouted. The bodyguards split silently into three groups, as though they had practiced the move many times: one group, the smallest, gathered in front of the window and began to climb through it, one by one; the second and third groups ran down opposite sides of the hallway to take the doors at the far ends of the quarters.

"I can see a man moving against the crowd," one of the guards said quickly. "He's headed toward the western docks, I'd bet!"

"Pursue!" The leader commanded the men, and as one the guards sprinted into the early morning crowds outside the palace. Citizens screamed in fear and backed away from the moving red uniforms. The one man who did not look back in concern at the screams was the elite guards' target, and they tailed him with a doggedness born of supreme physical training. The best runners of the group quickly gained ground on the evasive man, shoving citizens aside in their haste.

The target's downfall occurred when a contingent of city guards marched into view, appearing in opposite direction of the pursuing party. "You!" the elite guard commander cried to the militia, "Seize that man! Seize him!"

The militia knew better than to question the order of a guard of superior rank: as soon as they understood his shout, they surrounded the running man and brought him to the ground, pinning him down through sheer weight of numbers. The man struggled, but he was unable to escape.

Panting, the elite guards arrived at the place of arrest, bowing to their militia counterparts. "We can take him from here, soldiers," the commander said. With puzzled bows, the militia men released their captive and went on their way, muttering amongst themselves.

The elite guards took out black cords and tied their target's hands behind his back and secured a leash of rope to his ankle. The commander took a deep breath and yanked off the man's hood, exposing his young and defiant face.

"You'd better mend that glare of yours before we take you back, Shin," the commander said, "or you're definitely headed for the flames."

"I'm headed there, anyway, sir," Shin answered, keeping his chin raised.

"It's no more than you deserve, traitor," another guard muttered, spitting out the last word.

With a dark look, the commander shoved the younger man into the circle of guards. "Come on, men, let's haul his sorry carcass back to the Firelord's judgment."

The cluster of red uniforms parted the crowds on their way back to the palace as they did before, only now the city dwellers also gazed upon the man in their midst. Shin was dressed in citizens' clothes, his close-cropped hair also exposed to the world, signifying his place as a soldier and at odds with his civilian attire. The early morning vendors along the road began to whisper, speculating about the prisoner of the elite guards and his obvious betrayal of his post as a servant of the Fire Nation.

When the elite guards had returned to the palace, they marched directly to the Firelord's throne room, where several advisors and prominent courtiers had gathered, along with Fire Sages and generals. The guards forced their prisoner into a low bow before the high wall of fire before the Firelord's throne. One lone figure stood between the group of guards and the Firelord himself: a graceful, feminine figure robed in the bright red of royalty.

Princess Ursa stood firmly in her place, staring down at the guards with a stricken look in her eyes. Her hand was clapped tightly over her right cheek. She blinked quickly, catching a tear before it could drop from her eye. "Oh, Shin," she whispered quietly, and was not certain that the man kneeling before the throne had heard her.

"Speak," the voice of the Firelord commanded, from behind the wall of fire.

"Sir," the commander said, "we've apprehended the traitor and brought him to you. He kneels now before you in judgment, as is tradition for a guard who has gone back on his word."

"What is the name of this traitor?" the Firelord asked.

"Shin, sir," the commander answered, as the man kneeling before the throne moved his mouth to speak.

"Let the traitor answer to me himself, commander," the Firelord said, rising from his seat. The thin points of his crown melded with the silhouette of his head, giving him the appearance of a horned spirit out of a children's tale. "Shin," Azulon continued, "I remember that name: you're from the eastern islands, correct?"

Shin seemed to collect himself for a moment before he answered. "I am, Your Highness." He kept his head bowed respectfully, but his hands were white as they pressed themselves against the black bamboo floor.

"I see. And did your family happen to live on the island whose village was destroyed by a volcano over one hundred years ago?"

Silence echoed throughout the chamber as Shin took several deep breaths, his shoulders moving in time with his lungs. The guards behind him stirred restlessly, glaring at their fallen comrade's back. "Answer the Firelord, traitor!" one of the men finally shouted, stepping forward, intending to administer an incentive to the prisoner.

"You were not ordered to touch the traitor," the Firelord said in a ringing voice, stopping the guard in his tracks. "Stand where you are until you are needed."

"My apologies, My Lord," the guard said immediately, bowing.

"Now, then, Shin," the Firelord addressed the man before him, "answer me or suffer the consequences of your silence."

"My grandfather..." Shin paused, then said, "My grandfather lived on that island, My Lord."

"I thought so. And he knew Avatar Roku, did he not?"

"My Lord, everyone knew who Avatar Roku was-"

"Don't play innocent with me, boy," Firelord Azulon snapped, and Shin bowed his head even lower. "If you do not know where this line of questioning will lead, then you are an even more incompetent spy than I first thought."

"I am not a spy, Firelord Azulon," Shin answered quickly, stiffening at the ruler's words. "My loyalty has always been to the Fire Nation!"

The flames around the throne rose higher for a moment, then lowered past their original height. Princess Ursa hid her face in her hands, then looked up as the curtain of fire parted to reveal the Firelord's form. Azulon stared down at the man bowing before him, a cold, hard expression on his face. "Loyalty is an ambiguous word, Shin," he said, his eyes flicking ever so slightly in the princess's direction, "and can change its meaning at the drop of a gold piece. Take your own loyalty as a guard, for example: you swore to remain faithful to the Firelord and his family for your entire life, and yet you have given your true allegiance to only one member. And, unfortunately for you, Shin, that one member was not myself."

All eyes turned to the princess, who stood trembling, but from fear or from rage, no one could tell. Shin did not turn his head to look, but stared directly at his sovereign.

"Your sister was an elite guard as well, was she not?"

Shin seemed to recoil at the words, but he answered. "Yes, My Lord."

"And how did she die?"

"She..." Shin blinked slowly. "She was accused of defection and executed in the Earth Kingdom."

"And yet, when you were brought before me to verify your loyalty, you swore that you had nothing to do with your sister's betrayal. Why did you break your oath, Shin? Did you form a friendship with Princess Ursa?" The Firelord asked. "Did you fall in love with her? Or did you realize that she was a direct descendant of Avatar Roku? If even one of the answers to these questions is, 'yes', the result will be the same."

"I only did my duty as a servant of the Fire Throne, Lord Azulon," Shin said, without a tremor in his voice. "And I do not regret it, no matter the results."

"You have been teaching the fighting arts to a woman whose ancestor was a known traitor to this nation. Can you deny this?"

"My Lord, I did not-"

"The bruise on Princess Ursa's cheek came from her lessons with you," the Firelord interrupted Shin. "The princess stated this herself, when she was questioned. Princess Ursa, show the witnesses your right cheek." Reluctantly, the princess turned her head to display the large cruise on her right cheek, the cheek she had initially covered with her hand. "I think that your actions qualify as treason, Shin, for without a willing teacher, Princess Ursa would not have been given such dangerous information which might endanger her own place in court. You have nearly led the wife of a prince into treason. Your fate has surely become clear to you, now."

Shin shook his head rapidly. "With all respect to your words, My Lord, Princess Ursa learned self-defense skills only. I did not train her in combat."

"That," the Firelord said, "is a mere detail. Since you cannot deny your part in this plot to deceive the princess into treason, you will be punished accordingly." Shin paled, but he did not respond.

The flames about the throne flared high, rising almost to the top of the pillars supporting the roof. As one, the courtiers, guards, and Fire Sages all knelt. Princess Ursa remained standing, her shadow a defiant darkness in the face of the fire's pervasive light. "I have questioned this traitor and found him guilty of treason," Azulon shouted, his voice clearly heard in every corner of the room. "He will be taken to the outer wall of the palace and burned alive."

"My Lord!" A desperate feminine voice cut through the final echoes of the Firelord's sentence. Princess Ursa turned to the fiery throne and stepped forward, shielding Shin's kneeling form with her own tall figure. "My Lord, please, I ask for mercy, which is my right as a princess," Princess Ursa said, her voice thick with tears.

"Mercy?" The Firelord repeated, without inflection. "Princess Ursa, you were asked to attend this judgment as evidence only."

"I realize that, Firelord," Ursa said, "but I must plead for Guard Shin's life. I asked him to train me; he did not approach me independently."

So quietly that only Ursa could hear him, Shin said, "My Lady, don't endanger yourself for my sake-"

Ursa went on as if she had not heard him. "Shin was only fulfilling his duty as my bodyguard by further ensuring my safety. Please, do not punish him for obeying me."

The flames did not die down around the Firlord's throne as he answered. "I'll take your words into consideration, Princess Ursa. Instead of burning this guard alive, I will have him kill first, then burned. But I am afraid that is as much mercy as I can afford for treason."

The princess flinched as if struck, then bowed mechanically. "I accept the Firelord's judgment," she said emotionlessly, "but ask that I may be allowed to speak to Shin before he is removed from the throne room."

For a moment, it appeared as if the Firelord would refuse her request. Then, he said, "I will let you speak for the three rings of the Fire Sages' bells."

"Thank you, My Lord," Ursa answered, then turned around to face her bodyguard as he rose from the floor. Behind them, the Fire Sages lifted the bells in their hands, the meduim-sized bells used in trials to announce the verdict. Three rings indicated guilt, and one ring indicated innocence.

On the first ring, Shin leaned forward, putting his mouth very close to Ursa's ear. "My Princess, listen to me," he said, softly but firmly, his voice pitched to hide underneath the bells. "It was an honor to serve you, the granddaughter of the Avatar and an honorable woman."

The second bell rang, and Ursa tried to speak. "Shin, no-"

"I don't have much time," Shin persisted, speaking over her, "so listen: I taught you self-defense so that, when the time came for you to escape the Firelord and his sons, you could. They will turn on you eventually, Princess Ursa, because of your heritage. Do not let them win against you. The Avatar will return-"

The third bell rang.

"-And you will help to bring our country back to glory," the guard finished. He leaned back and bowed to her, as the other elite guards rushed to restrain him. "Goodbye."

The commander of the guards seized Shin as two more guards shackled him, then threw a rough cloth hood over his head. The men dragged their former comrade backwards as the Fire Sages and courtiers bowed to the throne and quietly exited, leaving a white-faced princess in their wake. Slowly, Ursa turned and bowed to the throne, then gathered her gown in a gesture of departure. "Wait, Princess Ursa," the Firelord commanded her.

It took a moment for the princess to bow in acquiescence, but she did, in the same jerky manner as before. "I await the Firelord's decree," she said, without a sign of the turmoil stirring in her heart.

"I have no personal quarrel with you, Ursa," Azulon said at last, as the flames sank to the level of his feet. He stood and gazed down at the princess without anger, his features smooth and his eyes cool. "I have no doubt that you did not intend to commit treason by learning how to fight. Think of this instance, then, as a lesson for the future: your actions carry more weight than you realize, and they will affect the people with which you surround yourself, including my son. I still think of you as a valuable asset in the court, but your family's history precedes you. Do not make this mistake again." He paused for a moment, frowning. "And do not write Ozai a letter about this incident-he has no use for this small problem while he is on the battlefield."

Ursa clenched her jaw as her eyes lit up with an angry fire, but her waist bent and her hands formed the appropriate symbol of respect as she bowed low. "I will do as the Firelord commands," she said, "as always."

And with those words, she spun and left the room, waiting until her back was turned on her father-in-law for her tears to fall unchecked down her face.


	27. The Paper Trail

**Author's Note: The Christmas break is coming to a close, for me, but I managed to squeeze out another chapter! It's short, but poignant. At least, I think so. This chapter really shows the shifting of the Fire Nation family's power. Of course, no major changes occur until ten years from now, but we all know that family conflict begins way, way before anything life-changing happens.**

** I would love to hear some feedback on this chapter, and also, I would like to know what my readers would like to see in future chapters. More talk, more action? I have many ideas, myself, but I love to have more thoughts circulating in my head. :)**

**Song: The Moment I Said It by Imogen Heap watch?v=2Y5Ofcjoa80 (very dark song, and possibly triggering; please listen with caution)**

**Enjoy! **

27.

_To the Glorious Firelord, Master of the Fire Nation, from his youngest son, Prince Ozai, Leader in the Fire Nation Militia :_

_Father,_

_ I have no news to report. I send this letter in the hope, however futile it is, that you will heed my word. I have heard of the death of Shin, personal guard to Princess Ursa. Ursa did not tell me herself, so rest assured: she has followed your command. I have received no letter from her for nearly four months. _

_ I know it is unnecessary to remind you that Shin was assigned as Ursa's bodyguard by my own signature. He was an excellent guard and a determined fighter, which is why I chose him. He had no designs to turn Ursa against you; she wrote to me frequently and mentioned her lessons in self-defense, asking for my permission to learn the art from Shin in order to feel safer while I was gone. She has never lied to me about anything, and she did not lie to me about Shin._

_ I would not presume to tell you how to deal out judgment, Father, but in this instance, I know that you were wrong. A prince must not express anger at his sovereign, so I will end my letter here. _

_ I have written to Ursa to continue our correspondence with one another while I'm in the field. _

_ Your servant, _

_ Ozai_

_ To the Glorious Firelord, Leader of the Fire Nation Armies, from his eldest son, Colonel Iroh of the Fire Nation Army:_

_ Honored Father,_

_ I must beg the Firelord to be gracious to his youngest son, my brother. Sometimes Ozai speaks too hastily and too strongly. I read his letter before it could be sent, and I have not altered it, but I attached this missive to the same hawk. _

_ Prince Ozai does not express himself well, currently, but he is merely worried for his young wife, Princess Ursa. I am the elder prince and know the duties of the Firelord are cold and, at times, cruel. In a more collected state, Ozai knows this as well. I must ask for my wise father to consider Ozai's age and emotional distress when he reads his letter. _

_ I must ask, for my own sake, please do not transfer Ozai's possible punishment to his wife. I am so very fond of my sister-in-law, as is my son. As Ozai's current commanding officer, I will accept blame for his behavior. _

_ I remain on the field, furthering my nation's glory by serving our Firelord. _

_ With respect, _

_ Iroh _

_From the Flame Throne, in the name of Firelord Azulon, to his eldest son, Colonel Iroh of the Fire Nation Army:_

_ Iroh,_

_ Your golden tongue is hard at work, it seems, and has saved your foolish younger brother from retribution. The words in his letter were angry, at best, and treasonous, at worst. They deserved the harshest punishment that I could administer without executing him. Also, the fact that Ozai has not had time to produce an heir and insurance for the throne stayed my hand, as well. Instead, I have sent orders to deploy him into battle immediately. I think all the strategic work and no physical combat is putting too great a straing on his nerves. _

_ Princess Ursa is safe, you may be assured. I did not think it wise to extend my judgment to her-I thought that might perhaps drive my impetuous youngest son to even more rash behavior. Ozai is young and reckless, but his is the kind of recklessness that would raise an army, if necessary. I do not doubt that, for her, he would rebel against me. You, as future Firelord, must make certain that your brother does not entertain that notion for even one moment. _

_ Here is my decree to you: if you suspect your brother has treason in mind, you are to imprison him immediately and send him back to the Fire Nation. Princess Ursa has changed his outlook on his place in life, and it has not always been for the better. I think he has grown too independent from us. _

_ Lu Ten learned of the conflict within our ranks, and he begged for mercy on his uncle's behalf, as well. Consider yourselves fortunate that he was present. _

_ In the name of the Fire Nation,_

_ Azulon_

_ In Reply to the Flame Throne, from Colonel Iroh:_

_ I hear the words of the Firelord and obey. _

_ Iroh_

_ To Prince Ozai, Leader in the Fire Nation Militia, from Princess Ursa, his wife:_

_ I am well. I am unharmed. Do not respond to this letter. We must remain within the Firelord's wishes, for both of our sakes. I love you. _

_ Ursa_

_ To Colonel Iroh of the Fire Nation Army, from Prince Lu Ten, Heir to the Fire Throne:_

_ Dad,_

_ Grandfather isn't so mad anymore. He told me he wouldn't hurt Uncle Ozai or Aunt Ursa. I made him tea. He said it was good. I love you. Fight a lot of earthbenders, okay?_

_ Love,_

_ Lu Ten _


	28. The Smoked Bottle

**Author's Note: Well, folks, I could say I was sorry it took so long to update, but that wouldn't be entirely true. When I started TLB, I promised myself I would only update when I really had something to say to further the story and to deepen the meaning of the overall themes. I also just got extremely busy these past few months (graduated nursing school, finally! Woo-hoo!). Hope you guys are doing well and updating your own fanfictions! :)**

**This is the chapter some of you have been waiting for: Ozai's first real battle. **

**Song for this chapter: 'Satsujin Ken' from the live action adaptation of Rurouni Kenshin watch?v=tJtK8HBE7wE (very hair-raising, imho). PS If you have't seen this movie: go watch it. It's amazing. **

**Enjoy!**

28.

The still night of the Earth Kingdom mountains erupted into noisy terror. The Fire Nation troops stationed in the foothills awoke to crushed tents and falling rocks, yelling in panic as green-cloaked figures sprang up all around them. The few women in the camps fled screaming into the woods, naked or half-clothed. One woman stayed and snatched a lantern from a fallen tent, illuminating the path of two men as they stumbled from their isolated space in the officers' quarters. The shortest of the trio pulled on a helmet of beaten metal and threw his extra pair of gauntlets to the taller man next to him.

"Make for the heights!" Prince Iroh said, seizing his companions by the arms, directing them away from the chaos of the foot soldiers' quarters. "Take as many men with you as possible, but don't get trapped down here!"

"Where are you going?" his companions demanded.

"I'm going to build a fire wall, naturally," Iroh replied, then rushed off to join the soldiers that had begun to stack bales of hay against the base of the mountains.

"We had better do as he says," the remaining prince said. Ozai had the look of a man who had woken to a viper in his bed, but he collected himself enough to strap on the fireproof gauntlets his brother had given him. He had no helmet and no armor but the two small pieces Iroh had remembered. His face was drawn and his eyes were wide, but his female companion noticed that his hands did not shake as so many fresh recruits' did in their first true battle.

"Prince Ozai," the woman with the lantern said, "let me take your red cloak and lead any earthbenders astray who might try to follow you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ozai snapped. "You'll serve your country much better by coming with me and not being a fool." And without another word he threw his red cloak down and ran into the night, the camp follower close on his heels.

Soldiers in red and green were dying all around them, their blood glinting wetly in the spare light of the torches. The earthbenders had a clear advantage having started the conflict, their ambush tactics lending them the element of surprise. The rebels were throwing mountain rocks through the air and raising spikes from the ground, impaling and crushing all at once, then fading into the scenery. The Fire Nation soldiers desperately tried to group together, finding one another through shouts and flashes of fire. Prince Ozai ran through the madness. He kept a single column of flame above his hand like a banner, attracting his subordinates as they wandered in the dark. "Make for the heights!" The prince cried, and the woman behind him echoed the shout. "Get to higher ground!"

A green-uniformed man appeared suddenly in front of the prince, his hand outstretched to call up a tide of earth to strike the Fire Nation leader down. With barely a moment's reaction, Ozai slashed his own hand in a deadly arc, searing the man from forehead to hip with a line of fire. The earth solider fell and did not rise. Another rebel pressed the Fire Prince while he was at a disadvantage, his rock glove aimed for Ozai's sternum. The prince allowed the man to close the distance between them, then quickly dodged the oncoming assault, planting a hand wreathed in fire onto his opponent's face. With a single scream, the man inhaled the flames and died, his lungs burned from the inside out.

Slowly the red-cloaked soldiers began to form ranks. The earthbenders found themselves in the midst of a true battle as their enemies awakened. A third of the camp managed to follow their youngest prince on his fight to reach the mountains. The rest remained enmeshed in the combat. The earthbenders intensified their offense, and the earth shook and rolled as though an earthquake had come to the aid of the rebels' cause. Large bouts of flame shot into the sky, tall columns of destruction that cut down every living thing in their paths.

The Fire Nation troops that had followed Prince Ozai obeyed their leader's instruction and took solid firebending stances, waiting for the rebels to pursue them onto the heights. The nonbenders drew their available weapons and put them to good use, raining spears and arrows into the fray with practiced accuracy.

The earth warriors did not try to climb the hills to reach their enemies. Instead, they formed missiles out of the bedrock and flung it onto the hillside. The Fire Nation troops used tongues of flame to crack the rocks apart. The pieces tumbled back down onto the rebels below, flattening a portion of the earthbenders even as they tried to deflect the projectiles.

Prince Ozai continued to shout commands, keeping his men in formation. He stood on the edge of the hillside, watching the troops below set the last hay bales into place. As he watched, the majority of firebenders on the ground sprinted toward the heights, leaving a small group behind. The earthbenders pursued the larger section of troops, harrying them as they ran to join their comrades. When the last few men had ascended, the small group of firebenders left behind executed lightning-fast movements that set the bales of hay on fire. A moment later, they had been killed by angry earthbenders.

The blaze from the hay wall jumped like a liondog, rising halfway up the hill within seconds. Fifteen firebenders on the heights reached out and took control of the flames, whirling it in a wide sheet. The arc of fire rose to a staggering fifty feet, enveloping the entire area in a sweltering heat. The firebenders quickly directed the fire to spread across the path into the foothills, cutting off any available means of pursuit to the earthbenders. Then, as the first fifteen benders fell back to gather strength, another fifteen took their places and pushed the fire into a fan shape. The high wall of flames flattened and struck the front line of earthbenders. None of the men escaped the fire and they screamed in pain, automatically turning to run, but as they did so, they passed the flames on to the rebels behind them.

The rebels' pursuit broke out into agonized chaos. Some men kept their wits about them; they simply opened up holes in the earth and dropped into them, smothering the flames in cool dirt. Others, unable to think past the pain of the fire, clutched at their comrades and were quickly pushed away to burn alone. Before any more rebels could use their bending skils to escape the flames, the firebenders pushed the fire wall out again, engulfing another line of green armored men. The Earth Kingdom troops began to flee, overcome by their opponents' use of deadly force.

The firebenders above them did not cheer at their enemies' defeat; they were too disciplined to make unruly noise. Instead, they stood a moment longer in their battle stances, waiting to see if the rebels would unleash another ambush or rally from their retreat. Finally, at the word of Prince Iroh, they relaxed, chests heaving from the exertion of keeping the fire wall under their control. Unleashed from firebender will, the sheet of flame fell onto the lower land with unchecked gluttony, eating up the bodies of earthbenders and firebenders alike and biting into tents and army supplies with fervor.

"Men," Prince Iroh said, his voice hoarse from smoke, "we were ambushed in the dead of night from all sides by skilled opponents. We must take pride in our own prowess, but we must also remember those of us whose flames have been snuffed out in this skirmish. Remember, men, that though every man must die, we are soldiers of the Fire Nation, and we will die only when we have served our country with honor and glory!"

At these words, the men did shout, raising their fists in the air to support their leader. Iroh nodded at their salute, then said, "This morning, we will have to travel north to join the troops at Chiun-wan to re-stock our supplies and to borrow some men." He smiled slightly, then reached into the bag slung against his shoulder. "However, right now we shall take a moment to celebrate our enemies' failure!" Pulling back his hand, he showed the men what he had stashed in his bag: a full bottle of the Fire Nation finest ash rum.

The troops cheered raucously, slapping one another on their backs; some embraced. One of the soldiers began to pass the bottle of ash rum around. The two princes met up and surveyed one another, looking for injuries or dents in armor. "I suppose I should be happy you survived that idiotic firewall idea," Prince Ozai said, his voice trembling ever so slightly from the experience of his first true combat.

"Idiotic?" Prince Iroh snorted indignantly, tossing his head back like a komodo rhino. "That so-called 'idiotic' move saved our men, little brother! Have some respect for your elders and betters." He smiled on the last phrase, ruining the effect of his words.

"I can't believe you've lasted this long on the front," muttered the younger prince, "with all this impulsive decision-making."

"Flexibility on the field of battle is a hallmark of proper military tactics," Iroh reminded him. "A decision had to be made quickly and effectively to prevent the rebels from destroying us completely. A firewall is a time-honored method to push back earthbenders."

Ozai did not have a chance to answer. He was suddenly swarmed by the troops he had led onto the heights. They shouted his name and cheered, breaking typical rank barriers by treating him much the same as their fellow footsoldiers, slapping him on the back and ruffling his hair. "That was a good first run, Captain Ozai," they said, and, "We followed that light banner all right, sir!" The prince accepted their thanks with a bewildered expression. Prince Iroh laughed at the look on his brother's face, then waded into the confusion and copied the soldiers, earning a warning shove from Ozai as he tousled the younger prince's fine black hair even further.

"Welcome to the army, Ozai," Iroh said, chuckling, "where rank means little in the heat of battle, and even less in the victory celebrations."

"Captain Ozai's the fresh blood today," one of the men, a lieutenant, said loudly. "That means he gets first pick of the green! Hand it over, let him pick it out!"

The soldiers parted to let two men pass, holding the dead body of an earthbender between them. They dropped the corpse at Ozai's feet and waited as the prince looked down at the dead man. With a moment or two of contemplation, Ozai reached down and removed the dead earthbender's gauntlets, switching them out for the ones Iroh had given him at the beginning of the ambush. The soldiers cheered again and passed the bottle of ash rum forward, holding it out to their prince with expectant looks.

Ozai took the bottle, held it up, and said calmly, "I think I need to get drunk to forget the fact that I almost died twice tonight." The men all laughed and whooped as the Fire Prince took a swig from their communal bottle.

Unnoticed by any of the troops, the woman who had accompanied Ozai to the heights stood in the shadows made by the still-raging fire, watching as men to whom she had offered her services rejoiced over the fact that many other men were dead. She eyed the liquor bottle as it circulated once again. She looked on as the princes of her nation encouraged the celebration of destruction and suffering. Then she gathered her thin robe about her and quietly stole from the scene, leaving the burning camp far behind her as the sun rose in the Earth Kingdom sky.


	29. The Childish Notes

**Author's Note: So, confession time...this chapter has been sitting on my flash drive for about two months. I don't know why I never posted it. I'm just a-herpin' and a -derpin' over here. **

**I would like to deliver a very serious message this time around: I AM NOT GIVING UP ON THIS STORY. I WILL NEVER GIVE UP ON THIS STORY. TLB is my favorite child and I treat it very gently. I write its chapters with care. I take my time to give you guys the best material possible. Because of this, my updating process is considerably slower than with other stories. Also, I'm writing about three other stories right now. On another note: wow, TLB is now 180 pages! We're on my way to full novel status, here!**

**Song for this chapter: watch?v=U9WvvXDDR4g Cruel by Kate Rusby (a song about a woman missing her sailor lover)**

**Enjoy!**

29.

_My Dearest Husband, _

_ I have been informed by an agent of our most glorious Firelord Azulon that I can correspond with you once again. It's been so long, and I have so much to say, yet I feel hesitant to do so. It has been too long since I have spoken to you, face to face. I feel an ache all over when I think of your absence. Sometimes I try to tell myself that you are not gone-that you'll come back soon, and it will feel as though no time has passed between us. But, as months turn into a year, I find that I must face the truth. _

_ I do not mean to sound so sorrowful, my love! I should raise your spirits when I write to you. I apologize for being so dour. I've had my cousins come to the palace for visits quite often in the past few months. They are always so cheerful. I know they try very hard to make me happy when they visit. I have not seen my parents in a year and a half, but I have sent letters to my mother. In turn, she has sent flowers to the palace every month to cheer me up. _

_ I hope that you have been safe and warm in the Earth Kingdom. I've made it a habit to visit the shrines once a week to ask for guidance for you and Iroh. I try not to be too greedy, since I know spirits don't appreciate ingratitude, but I do press them for the most luck that they can give. Just to be safe, I offer a whole bowl of rice and two dimpled plums every time I pray. _

_ Please, do not delay in your reply. I long to read your sarcastic words. When I have your letters, I can imagine that you have spoken their content to me-that's how clearly I can read your emotions through the parchment. _

_ All my love,_

_ Ursa_

_My Ursa,_

_ I will not comment too heavily on the fact that you had to wait for so long for permission to write me, but I will say: none of those restrictions had anything to do with your actions. I was a fool and dispatched a letter before I could cool my head enough to prevent it from being permanently separated from my body. _

_ We have traveled to the army camp at Chiun-wan. Our own camp was ambushed by Earth rebels and all our supplies were destroyed. Before you gasp in horror, don't worry: Iroh and I are fine. We lost many men, but half of our troops still remain battle-ready. Iroh considers that night to be a sound victory. _

_ I hope things at court are not too mind-numbingly boring. I confess, it's going to be hard to come back to the Fire Nation after living in an army camp so long. What on earth will I have to discuss with courtiers who have never seen any sort of conflict? I'll yawn myself to death listening to them describe the different kinds of wine they have recently cultivated or the poem they recently finished. _

_ I will be happy to see you, Princess, after this tour of duty. In honor of our previous correspondences, I did take notice of the scenery here in Chiun-wan, and it is quite breath-taking. I had the amateur artist in our camp, a man by the name of Sun, copy one of his ink drawings for you. It should be wrapped inside this letter. He does a rather decent job, since he is only a foot soldier with no formal training. He told me that he worked in an artist's house, before he left for the war, and that he would study the way his employer would paint until he could copy the movements. He says he finds painting to be a spiritual enlightenment. Sometimes, you have to wonder how a man like that survives in a war. _

_ I know that feeling of absence you described. I ache, too, although I'm fairly certain that's more from marching and firebending than from loneliness. But some nights I do lie awake in my tent and imagine that I am beside you, in the palace, listening to your breath as you sleep. I am never sure whether that lessens or increases the pain. _

_ I do apologize if I have not furnished enough sarcasm for you, my dear. My wit's a bit dulled, today. I will try to exceed at least three sarcastic remarks, next letter. _

_ Yours, _

_ Ozai_

_To My Heart's Fire,_

_ Ozai! I'm afraid you have disappointed me! That letter hardly had any clever remarks in it. Being away from home is no excuse: you must stay away from that ash rum I know dear Iroh has stored in his tents, or you will lose your sharp mind quickly!_

_ Now, Ozai, you know I'm only teasing. I know battlefields have little use for humor. All I want is a letter from you. I do not care if it's witty or terribly sad. You know that you can tell me anything, my dearest husband, and I won't laugh at or rebuke you. Tell me anything that has bothered you, and I will listen. I may cry for you, but don't let that stop you. All I can do, trappd here in the Fire Nation, is offer all my love. _

_ You can tell Iroh that Lu Ten has learned nearly all of the basic child forms in his firebending. His teacher is very pleased with him; every time we meet, she tells me how proud Prince Iroh should be of his little solider boy._

_ I told Lu Ten that the next time I wrote, he could add a message of his own. I will let him speak, now:_

_ Hello, Uncle Ozai and Dad,_

_ I wish you were back home, but Grandfather says you're doing your duty and I'm doing mine by being good for Aunt Ursa. I love Aunt Ursa. She gave me a turtleduck! I keep him in the east garden pond. I named him Dragon. I get to feed him bread, sometimes. Aunt Ursa says he's happy, there. _

_ I hope you come home soon. Fight really good so you can come back. _

_ Love,_

_ Lu Ten_

_Princess,_

_ It's a sad thing to hear that my beloved wife does not, in fact, miss me at all-she misses my clever remarks. I'm so sorry, darling. Your mind must be slowly starving around all those simple-minded courtiers and generals. Wherever shall you find wit amongst the finest minds in our nation? It's tragic. You're much too young to die. _

_ Your letter made me smile, believe it or not. To pay you back for the smile, I have filled the above paragraph with all the sarcasm I could muster without driving you insane. I could go on for pages, of course, but one of my better traits is knowing when to contain my dry sense of humor. _

_ I feel rather like we have traveled back in time to when we were schoolchildren, because somehow Iroh has convinced me to let him include a message of his own in my latest letter. Doesn't this remind you of when all the noble's children would sit in class and slip notes onto someone else's desk? We are like the friends who sit between two infantile lovers who have to carry the notes back and forth across the room. _

_ Anyway, Ursa, this is Iroh's portion of the message:_

_ To The Lovely Princess Ursa and My Dear Son Lu Ten:_

_ We are all well here! Uncle Ozai and I are fine. We want to go home just as much as you want us to return, but the Firelord is right: we must stay and support our men who fight in our names. Remember, Lu Ten, that we are princes of the Fire Nation, and we stand by our people. Uncle Ozai and I will be brave and strong along with our armies. Until we can come home, Aunt Ursa will look after you. And the Firelord is right again: you must behave, for her sake. _

_ To address the fair princess herself: I cannot thank you enough for your kindness toward Lu Ten. I will not forget it, Ursa. When the time comes for our glorious leader to pass on the flames of the throne, I will remember how my son could rely on your love and strength. I can promise that words like "traitor" and "punishment" will never pass the future Firelord's lips. _

_ Don't give up on this younger, less charming prince, either-I think he likes you. Not as much as I like you, obviously, but he doesn't like anyone as much as I like them. _

_ Your Servant,_

_ Iroh_

_Clever Ozai:_

_ Did you read the last portion of Iroh's message before you sent if off? I just wonder. _

_ Ursa_

_My Loving Wife:_

_ We will never speak of it again. _

_ Ozai_

_Ursa:_

_ I am perfectly serious. We will not mention this message again._

_ Ozai_

_My Delightful Husband,_

_ I believed you the first time, and I honor your wishes. Did you receive the gift I pressed into a piece of parchment, or was the messenger hawk lost in the mountains?_

_Your loving wife,_

_ Ursa_

_Princess:_

_ The lightning bud you sent me is now attached to the inside of my tunic. It will eventually be crushed by my armor, of course, but its light scent makes me think of you. I have decided never to remove it. That tunic will just have a stain over the left breast for all time. It seems a small price to pay to be reminded that life exists outside of this war._

_ Ozai_


	30. The Swift Sword

**Author's Note: Well, folks, here we are at The Lightning Bud's big three-zero! Chapter 30 is here, with a hint of new intrigue on the wind. I'm immensely regretful that it took me such a long time to gain inspiration, but that's the way it goes, sometimes. I'd love to hear from the people who are still reading to see how ya'll are faring. **

**Song choice for this chapter: 'Swift Sword' from the soundtrack to the film _Hero_. watch?v=i-ugR-wKrq4 (a brilliant song for the introduction of a new character...)**

**Enjoy!**

30.

There were many moments in her current life where Ursa regretted her marriage to a prince of the Fire Nation. She always felt immediately guilty after such a thought crossed her mind, but she could not stop the thoughts, regardless. On days when she was left alone to deal with the numerous simpering courtiers of the Fire Nation nobility, or on days when a disgruntled nobleman would ask for an audience with her to discuss his petition to the Firelord, Ursa could not imagine a more stifling life than the one she currently led.

Now, faced with the prospect of a mid-season festival which would take place inside the palace, Ursa wanted nothing more than to hand the golden flame pinned to the ribbon in her hair over to one of the many courtiers who salivated over it and renounce her claim to royalty. But, being a princess who was ever conscientious of her duty, she persevered. "I am perfectly happy with the arrangements the Head Decorator has made," she told the Firelord's steward, for the fifteenth time. "I see no need to change any of her plans."

"But, Princess Ursa," the steward pressed, "she has requested seven hundred pieces of gold as the budget for the festival-seven hundred! Does she think money grows on apple-plumb trees?"

Didn't all nobles, including Ursa herself, think money sprouted up from the ground like weeds? Ursa wanted to ask, but she held her tongue. "I am sure, were you to speak directly with her, you two could work out a suitable budget. It's not my concern, Steward."

"But—"

"You have mentioned this too many times in the last few minutes to count," Ursa said, finally. "Please, if you're not going to take your concerns to the Head Decorator, leave her designs the way they are and fulfill her request. I have no control over whether or not you work out a suitable compromise."

With that final sentence, Ursa reached over and picked up the teacup on the low table beside her. She put the cup to her lips and took a gentle sip. She was not particularly thirsty, but taking a drink in the middle of an informal audience was as clear a dismissal as she could make without being rude. The steward, with a sour look on his face, stood and bowed deeply. "You've honored me with this very gracious tea ceremony, Princess," he said.

Ursa could not be certain that he was not using a very light form of sarcasm. She responded with courtesy, anyway. "It was a pleasure to speak to you again, Steward. Please, if you have any other concerns this month, don't hesitate to consult me." The obligatory pleasantry felt cold and distasteful in Ursa's mouth; she did not like the steward's tendency to complain to her about every financial matter in the palace. However, she knew her role as the only available royal aside from the Firelord left her in a fixed position. Prince Iroh and Prince Ozai were fighting a war in the Earth Kingdom, Lu Ten was far too young to hold audiences in court, and the Firelord himself had too many other matters to sort out. There was no one else to help the nobles straighten out their petty squabbles.

Ursa waited until she was alone before she rubbed her hands over her temples, gritting her teeth against the sensation of an oncoming headache. On this day, she had arranged for all her meetings with the court to be in elaborate tea ceremonies. The lush red tea room with its low, black tables and gilt tea sets was still less formal than the long, narrow audience hall where she usually held court. Here, Ursa got to sit on comfortable pillows, and she was allowed constant refreshment. In the audience hall, she had to sit on a hard dais and wait until her attendants called for a recess before she could refresh herself with tea or water.

Ursa tried to reflect on the women in her nation who had far less fortunate circumstances than she did. Somewhere in the Fire Nation, mothers struggled to feed their children while their husbands went off to war. Widows mourned the loss of their soldier spouses. Some women had to work in the fields or slave away in a hot shop all day to provide for their families. Other women had been forced into the life of camp followers, going to the battlefield with Fire Nation men to offer their illicit services to the soldiers. All Ursa had to do was perform minor ceremonial functions and listen to members of the privileged class air their grievances with each other.

Ursa was distracted from her thoughts when the tea room servant bowed himself into the room and said, "The Firelord has sent your new bodyguard to meet you, Princess Ursa. She's here now. Should I allow her an audience?"

Startled by the suddenness of this announcement, Ursa set her tea cup down too firmly. The delicate pottery nearly cracked. Wincing, Ursa said, "Certainly. Show her in."

The appearance of a new bodyguard without prior warning and without Ursa's own approval was further proof that Ursa had lost the trust of Firelord Azulon. She supposed she should be grateful that her father-in-law had not imposed even harsher strictures than he had. Nevertheless, she was gripped by worry as she wondered about her new protector. If this bodyguard had been hand-picked by the Firelord himself, would she double as a spy for the Firelord, as well?

The servant returned and bowed once again. The black-clad figure behind him slipped serenely into the room, pausing to bow deeply to Ursa with her hands locked in the traditional salute to royalty. "You may approach," Ursa said, granting the new bodyguard permission to walk up to her tea table.

The bodyguard the Firelord had chosen for Ursa was a woman of average height and weight, but whose sleek black tunic did little to conceal the layers of hard muscle on her arms, legs, and abdomen. Her high collar with its golden accents belonged to the tunics of only one martial arts school in the Fire Nation: Dragon House.

For over two centuries, the illustrious reputation of Dragon House had earned its masters a place in the Fire Nation court as private guards or as in-house instructors for wealthy bender children. The mastery tests the fighting school designed for its students were so rigorous that only those who had studied the art for over ten years could hope to complete them. Of all the fighting schools in the nation, Dragon House had the fewest masters. Among bender and non-bender fighters, it was said that Dragon House was smaller for the same reason diamonds were smaller than crystals: they were worth more than twice their own weight in inferior schools.

Ursa was shocked that the Firelord could find such a bodyguard for her. Dragon House masters could not be bought with money; their school scorned the ostentatious salaries given to their competitors. Instead, Dragon House masters served the Firelord and his retinue out of deep loyalty. None of the masters who served the royal family had ever guarded an in-law before. In-laws were disposal, especially one who was the wife of a second son. Ursa could not imagine what had made this master change this rule.

The woman of Dragon House bowed again and then casually adjusted the simple black-sheathed sword at her side. "Princess Ursa," she said, in a clear, authoritative voice, "I am honored to offer my services as your protector at the behest of Our Glorious Firelord."

Ursa, though shocked by this turn of events, nodded her head in respect to the master's offer. "You honor me in turn, Dragon Master. I can't imagine what I did to earn such an elite guard," she said, with a touch of deliberate wariness. If this woman was here to spy on Ursa, the princess wanted her to know that Ursa was no fool.

The Dragon Master smiled slightly, the equivalent of a grin for a regular person. "I expect it was your desire to learn self-defense, My Lady."

Ursa managed not to scowl. The memory of Shin's needless death still hurt her every time she remembered it. "Indeed."

"Rest assured, Princess Ursa, I'm here only as a bodyguard, and not as a barrier between you and the rest of the world," the Dragon Master said. "I already made that clear to the Firelord. I won't be party to another woman's social imprisonment."

Ursa's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. "You _told_ the Firelord this?"

"Of course," the woman answered, easily. "I am a master of Dragon House. I serve the royal family, but I'm not owned by them. My loyalty can't be used as a tool against me; then it is no longer loyalty, but forced devotion."

In spite of her misgivings, Ursa was impressed. This woman's shining black hair and smooth face proclaimed her lingering youth. She could not be more than ten years older than Ursa herself, yet she was amazingly self-assured. She did not seem to be afraid of anything, not even the most powerful influence in Fire Nation society. A small, suspicious voice in Ursa's mind—a voice which grew stronger with every day she spent in the Fire Nation court—whispered that this attitude itself might be a trap to lure her into a false sense of security. She could not divulge her own defiance to the Dragon Master in fear that her words would be reported back to the Firelord. However, she could accept this woman as her bodyguard and winnow out her motives over time.

"If I may ask," Ursa said, "what is your name, Dragon Master?"

With another bow, the woman said, "Nazuka, My Lady."

"Thank you for your service, Master Nazuka." Ursa rose and gave a small bow, a concession from a superior to an esteemed subordinate. "I accept your offer to be my bodyguard. Now," she smiled genuinely, "won't you have some tea with me?"


End file.
